Mostly Harmless
by Saltwater
Summary: I'd just woken up, inexplicably wearing a tattered brown dress and being told repeatedly by two frolicking women that they were elves and I was not, ha ha, and that I had better help them save the world. I mean, what's a girl supposed to do with that?
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

The trees of Rivendell stood tall and strong in the clear morning sun, long golden fingers splayed wide to soak the early autumn rays while deep brown roots twisted languidly down the valley towards the bubbling waters below. A symphony of twitters and coos echoed distantly throughout the dale, filtering past the rush of leaves as a breeze blew and the sound of water gurgled softly in the distance.

Curving throughout the whispering Eden was a pathway, its delicate railings snaking over the terrain, branching several times towards empty platforms before finally reaching a large flat terrace at the end of the line.

The men and women gathered on that terrace were still and silent, eyes downcast, as the hum of their surroundings drifted on. The seconds trickled by, the tune of nature continued seamlessly flowing, and yet the company remained mute, hesitant to break the lull that had settled over them. Minutes dragged further on as each member fell deeper into their own musings, before a small hobbit with a mop of dark curls shifted, seeming to emerge from his thoughts. He glanced hesitantly at the array of important and noble people who surrounded him, before his blue eyes darted quickly back down to the hands clasped tightly in his lap.

The silence continued. The hobbit stared hard at his knees, hardly seeing them as he pressed his hands more firmly together and closed his eyes. Still the silence continued. And it would not abate, he knew, unless a decision was made.

Well, there was nothing else for it now.

He took a deep, shaky breath, and lifted his gaze. "I will take the Ring," he announced quietly, a tremor running through his voice. "Though I do not know the way."

Another silence followed this statement, though a breath of relief and uncoiled tension spread throughout the members. An Elf with long, dark hair and a silver circlet upon his brow raised his eyes and looked directly at the hobbit.

"If I understand aright all that I have heard," he said, "I think that this task is appointed for you, Frodo; and that if you do not find a way, no-one will."

The atmosphere in the company shifted, as every person turned to regard the hobbit at the words of the powerful Elf-lord. "But it is a heavy burden." Lord Elrond continued. "So heavy that none could lay it on another. I do not lay it on you. But if you take it freely, I will say that your choice is right."

Barely had these words escaped the Elf's mouth when a fairer, stouter hobbit stumbled from his well concealed hiding spot amongst the foliage and cried out, "But you won't be sending him off alone surely, Master?"

Elrond turned to the flustered hobbit, a small, surprised smile lifting the sombre expression from his deceivingly young face. "No indeed!" he replied, amusement lacing his words. "You at least shall go with him. It is hardly possible to separate you from him, even when he is summoned to a secret council and you are not."

The solemn mood that had lain over the gathering faded with these words, and the stout hobbit blushed furiously and sat down. There was a general air of finality as Sam muttered to his Mr. Frodo something about pickles, and not having landed in particularly good ones, while the rest of the company broke into faintly amused murmurs.

But it seemed that Fate had other plans for the day's procedures, as a desperate looking Elf with waist length blonde hair and bright, sky-blue eyes stood suddenly from her seat.

"L-Lord Elrond!" she exclaimed, a very worried expression on her delicate features as she brushed a silky golden lock from her face. A slow, surprised silence filtered back through the peoples as every face turned to the fair Elf with varying degrees of confusion and curiosity.

"We…" she began hesitantly, her perfect creamy cheeks tinged faintly pink as she struggled to find her words. "That is to say… Frodo's journey will be a long and… and difficult one, and, to complete it with only two… with only one companion, well, that is… not… a very smart thing."

The silence persisted, and it had suddenly turned oppressive, almost disbelieving. Elrond, brows furrowed in incomprehension and a vague sort of disbelief, stared at the speaker, unable to respond for a moment.

"What I mean to say," the slender Elleth continued, licking her full, shiny pink lips nervously, "is that the hobbit will need help, no? What with all the… the _things_ out there that could hurt him. And, we… offer our help." She gestured vaguely to a green-eyed Elf sitting to her left. "My companion and I, we offer to help him on his quest to destroy the Ring, and will do anything in our power to… to help." And with that, she abruptly retook her seat.

"I…am very grateful for your offer." Elrond began after a lengthy pause, brows still drawn together. "Obviously, more companions will be chosen to accompany Frodo and Sam –"

"Yes," the blonde Elf interrupted once more, flattening her soft white dress over her thighs in an almost nervous gesture. "Yes, of course. We are simply offering our services, for we greatly desire to - to be of help. To Frodo." The Elf on her left smiled vaguely in the direction of Elrond, emerald eyes fastened on nothing in particular as she arranged her shiny, black ringlets over her shoulder.

"Very well." Elrond's eyes searched the only two women at the council, and he was careful to school his features into neutrality before speaking. "I thank you for your gracious offers. It truly means a lot that you are willing to partake in this dangerous quest so enthusiastically. You will be taken into consideration when –"

"We are honoured, truly, my lord, to be a part of this all. It means a lot to us." The blonde Elf smiled brilliantly, her light, merry eyes sparkling joyously, the very air around her seeming to glow with her pleasure as she beamed at everyone. She glanced at the dark-haired elleth beside her, whose expression remained unchanged, and folded her hands in her lap, seeming quite satisfied with herself.

"Yes," said Elrond tersely, staring hard at the two females before him. "Thank you."

* * *

Authors note: Well there you have it. My new and improved start to an ever growing monstrosity of mine! Re-written about forty billion times, and scrupulously checked over by my fantastic Beta, I believe it may be the best piece of writing I have yet to given over to public view. Yet. As it is, I really hope you enjoyed the prologue, and are absolutely hungry for more. You should expect the next chapter to be much more sarcastic, much more assertive, and a lot less Sue centered. This story, amongst many, many other things, is at its roots a subtle parody of everything that is Suish. A 'How-Not-To' manual, if you will, as well as a 'Now-This-Would-Not-Happen-But-If-It-_Did...' _ kind of look at things. I am very excited about it; I've planned quite an epic journey ahead, and I can tell you now there are at least three twists in the distant future that I _know _you wont be expecting and will have never seen before.

I hope you stay long enough to enjoy them.

Also, many, _many _heartfelt thanks to my two wonderful Beta **Galenfea**, who I absolutely could not possibly have done this without. I owe her shrines for what she's had to put up with from me. Shrines I tell you!

**Disclaimer: **Now as a general rule I don't usually do this, but as I've taken directly from the source I feel it's within my best interests to, well, disclaim myself. From the very beginning to the point where Elrond says "…even when he is summoned to a secret council and you are not." the dialogue has been taken directly from _Lord of the Rings – The Fellowship of the ring: The Council of Elrond_, and as such belongs irreversibly to J.R.R. Tolkein.


	2. A Happy Beginning

**Chapter 2 **_- "A Happy Beginning"_

"This is the most insane thing that has ever happened to anyone, ever, in the history of mankind. Ever."

"What was that?"

I glanced up at the woman walking ahead – tucking her smooth, blonde hair elegantly behind a delicately pointed ear as she turned her head over her shoulder to address me – and found myself hoping she would stumble into an open sewer and die.

"Nothing," I replied with all innocence, and proceeded to trip over the hem of my brown peasant dress and nearly kill myself on a small step leading into a garden while trying not to drop the huge pack on my back that contained all of her, and her companion's, belongings. Because frankly, that was a much more worthy thing to be doing with my time.

With an exasperated roll of her eyes, the blue-eyed beauty turned back to the male guide she and her dark haired friend were walking beside, and pretended I didn't exist. (This involved a lot of eyelash-batting, apparently.)

I pushed a few messy locks of brown hair off my face as I regained my balance, and very maturely and intellectually stuck my tongue out at her. And then flinched slightly, as an elf with two wooden buckets in her hands suddenly materialised beside me and continued past, on her way towards the tall building ahead of us.

My eye twitched ever so slightly.

Freaking elves.

"This is the most _insane_ thing that has ever happened to anyone. Ever! In the history of mankind EVER!" I repeated my new mantra, pausing in different places and emphasizing different words, just to spice things up a bit. All around me, people were casually going about their daily routine as the sun began to set and they prepared for the night, while I was busy just getting over the most hysterical panic I had ever experienced in my life.

Because, well really, it _was _the most insane thing that had ever happened to anyone ever in the history of mankind ever. For I was, at that very moment, strolling around in Rivendell.

Oh yes, Rivendell. As in, Middle-earth. As in, yes I was a normal human being who abided by the everyday laws of the universe, until one fateful day I was _thrown into a story book._

It _can _happen, apparently. I was not, however, all that thrilled with the situation. I'd just woken up, in the middle of the great outdoors, inexplicably wearing a tattered brown dress and being told repeatedly by two frolicking women that they were elves and I was not, ha ha, and that I had better get up and help them on their quest to reach Rivendell and save the world, if I knew what was good for me. I mean, what's a girl supposed to _do _with that?

Quite frankly, my biggest concern at that point had been how they had gotten me into the dress, where all my other things had gone, and if they would be nice enough to possibly not murder me.

Now, however, I had other things on my mind. Namely, all the elves who were wandering around, calmly destroying all notions of the natural order of things that I might have still harboured. I trudged moodily through the most beautiful dwelling I had ever laid eyes on, cringing slightly whenever an elf moved within my sight range, certainly the worst dressed person in the entire place and very aware that I kind of smelled. From all the travelling I had done to get to Rivendell, not because I'd… soiled myself, or anything. I had not, thankyouverymuch.

I blinked rapidly and held my breath as I spotted a larger group of elves in the distance, all male, with bows and swords and other weaponry at hand, laughing and talking amongst each other as if it was a completely normal thing to be running around with pointy objects on a casual afternoon. It was then that I resolved to never think about anything for the rest of my life ever again. Because thinking only lead to… stuff. Knowing stuff. Stuff that should not by all manner of thought or reason at all be… there to be thought about in the actual context of real life.

Because though I was deeply enthralled by the elves, (I mean how could you _not _be?) it was still very hard to shake the fact that actual elves walking around in front of my actual self in an actual place, equalled a whole lot of things that should not have even been included in the equation, and this understandably upset my equilibrium a little bit.

I hoisted the pack that I'd been carrying for the last few days further up my back, and looked to the darkening sky with a soul-wrenching sigh. Whoda thunk it, huh? Little old

Amelia McCalman, called to fulfil her destiny as a trusty sidekick handmaiden in the fair Land of the Rings. I officially hated my life.

I stumbled once more as I stubbed my foot on a tree root, sparing a hateful glance at the piece of nature that so dared to get in my way, before my view of the building we were heading towards was suddenly obscured by blonde. I eyed the golden hair in front of me suspiciously, wondering what breeze, exactly, it was blowing in, and contemplated the utter, annoying audacity of the woman – or rather _elleth, _sorry – that it belonged to. Elenya Linwë Ancalímë. Tall, serene and beautiful, she was a kindly soul, wise beyond her years (which rivalled Galadriel's in the utterly baffling number of zeros tacked onto the end), had legs that stretched on forever, hair that rivalled Legolas's in blondeness, eyes that rivalled Legolas's in blueness, and lips that rivalled the Misty Mountains in their sheer size. When she wasn't speaking to you with a voice as soft as a feather, or staring dramatically into the sunset and thinking about her woeful past, she was being a total, utter bitch.

She also had a friend. Her friend's name was Alatariel Nápoldë Lossëhelin. With a striking, Harry Potter-esque look about her, she was bubbly, agreeable, and generally a fantastic sort of sidekick. Her dark raven locks, pale, smooth skin, and eyes as green as fresh pickled toads, allowed her a sort of mysterious beauty that only contrasted and enhanced the glorious sunbeam that was Elenya. The two had been friends for centuries, apparently, and had been inseparable ever since the day that their homeland, the long-lost City Of The Glittering Sun, first became long-lost in a terrible tragedy that didn't seem to have too many details but somehow began with a nectarine, and ended with the brutal slaughter of an entire race of elves – barring these two fortunate princesses, of course.

I could just vomit.

I didn't even know that these kind of people actually existed. The discovery that they did made me die a little on the inside. Was there really so little hope in this world? I'm sure the natural inhabitants would disagree with my logic if I were to proclaim that their biggest problem was not a giant flaming eyeball, or a ring that slowly drained you of your very essence, but in fact people such as these two women before me. But I knew the horrible truth. These two could do damage in ways that little old Sauron couldn't even imagine. Perhaps I should have offed them right at the start, before they could tell me that they were secretly in the Fellowship and engaged to Legolas. But instead I wallowed in self pity as we were led indoors, through a couple of corridors with rich, delicately managed tapestries hanging on display, before arriving at some dead end with three wooden doors.

The dark haired elf was saying something to the two girls as I waddled slowly up to them, back bent under the weight of the pack I was carrying. He was shifting his weight backwards unconsciously as he talked, with the two girls countering this by leaning uncomfortably towards him, and as I finally shuffled up to them his eyes flicked towards my haggard form, and he tapered his sentence to an end. Then, with a somewhat bewildered look back at the girls, he left. I stared at his high brow and strong jaw line with a twitchy sort of fascination as he passed, wondering if he was that pale because it was his natural colour, or because we were staring at him like we were alcoholics and he was a very tasty looking bucket of vodka.

I sighed as he turned the corner, and directed a half-hearted glare at the two girls before me. There was some bustling coming from within our rooms, and a few elleth were walking in and out of our open doors with buckets in hand. My eyes darted almost nervously after them, even as my undeniably blonde companion began talking to me.

"Well, Nessa." Elenya flicked her thick hair as she turned to me, completely ignoring the decidedly female, and therefore uncool, elves within our rooms.

"Amelia," I corrected her without any real conviction.

"This is where we'll be staying for the next while," she continued, as if I hadn't spoken at all. "That one is your room, in the middle there, so that Alatariel and I can both have easy access to you if we need any handmaidenish… things, to be done for us."

"Great," I muttered, glancing at the room that sat on the part of wall that marked just how dead that end was. It was looking much smaller than the two flanking it. "I get the broom closet, then?"

She smiled angelically at me, then grabbed Alatariel's arm and dragged her excitedly into one of the other rooms. I let out a deep gust of wind from my lips (otherwise known as a SIGH), dropped the backpack on the floor, and left it where it lay before wandering into my designated sleeping quarters. I sighed again and looked around.

Then I jumped right out of my skin and ran all the way back to the twenty-first century as a hand placed itself on my shoulder from behind me.

"_Augh!_" I yelled as I whirled around, clutching at my frantically beating heart. The elf to whom the hand belonged smiled, her hazel eyes creasing kindly as she regarded me.

"My apologies, I did not mean to startle you," she said soothingly. "We are just readying your bath." She indicated that I should move to the side, so that she and a few others could come in with steaming buckets of water. It was then that I noticed the tub in the middle of my room.

The room itself was tiny. There was a comfortable sized bed against one wall, and a dark green, squishy looking rug and matching armchair which sat in front of a small fireplace on the other side. There was also a small wooden closet shoved in the corner beside the fire place and against the window, with barely enough room left to fit a vanity desk by the door. The window itself was pretty big, spanning practically from one side of the wall to the other, and was the only thing that afforded any semblance of space.

The tub had been squished precariously between all these things, in the small stretch of empty floor in the middle of the room.

At least I was going to have a bath. I smiled and tried to relaxed, thinking about how soothing it would be to hunch into a tub of warm water that reached my waist, and how much cleaner I would be after scrubbing all that pesky skin from my body with what looked like a toilet brush leaning against the bath. Two elves moved past me and poured four more buckets of hot water into my tub, and the one who had spoken to me uncorked a rose-smelling vial and tipped it sparingly into the water. The scent washed over me, and I actually relaxed a little, considering the fact that I would at least smell good afterwards.

The rose-vial lady, who I will from now refer to (very originally) as Rose, turned to my vanity and pulled a comb and a few hair pins out of the draw. Then she pressed two corked glass bottles into my hands, which were apparently shampoo and conditioner, and placed a bar of soap on top of a towel-sized strip of vaguely absorbent looking linen, which had just been folded onto the table by one of the other elves (who I shall now name Raven, and Mayonnaise [in reference to their hair colour]).

Then, with a job well done, the elves turned to leave. Rose smiled and wished me a pleasant stay, and then they were gone.

I hummed in relief, and tested the water with my finger.

Toasty.

Before I could be allowed to unwind, however, a tinkering voice called from the room on my right. "Nessa!"

I closed my eyes and raised my face to the heavens. Why me?

"_Nessa, _you useless thing, come here!" the voice repeated, losing a lot of its sparkle in a sudden snap.

I sighed and trudged out of my door, bypassed the pack still in the hallway, and walked into a room that was about three times the size of mine, all royal and blue and gold in decorations. I sighed for about the hundredth time, and hated my life some more.

"You rang?" I said in a deadpan.

"Where's our stuff?" Elenya asked sweetly, blonde hair and limbs sprawled delicately over her large, four-post double bed.

Mayonnaise then walked through the door behind me, and I flinched and moved out of her way.

"Out in the hallway," I replied after a pause.

She blinked, and her smile widened. "And why are they out in the hallway?" she asked, voice sweeter and breathier even than before.

"Because you haven't gone to collect them yet," I retorted, eyes darting back to watch the graceful movements of the elf as she did something as simple as pour water into a tub (which was twice as big as mine), yet still somehow managed to look as if performing some tender ritual. "Is there a point to this?"

"Why of course there is, my dear, sweet Nessa!" I rolled my eyes. If her voice tried to get any sweeter, it would pass into tones unable to be heard by human ears.

"Why do you think we brought you here?" She sat up slightly, resting on her elbows, her head cocked to the side. "Why do you think you're here in Rivendell with us right now? So that you can do nothing? I don't think so. No, you're here for a reason. And that reason is because we brought you here." She had a vaguely smug look about her now, as if she'd just made some deeply intelligent point, and dropped back onto the bed. "To serve us. Obviously."

"To _serve _you? Hah! Good luck with _that_, honestly." I scratched the side of my nose distractedly, and flicked a glance over my shoulder at the pack still in the corridor. "Carry your own things."

"I don't _think _so," she replied airily, flapping a white-sleeved arm at me, "Elves don't _do _menial labour."

I looked at her, turned pointedly to the elf in the corner who was readying her bath, and then looked back.

She huffed, and then muttered. "Yeah, well, _real _elves don't, anyway."

The elleth looked up from her task, tucking a strand of almost-white hair behind her ear and glancing across at the blonde on the bead.

I sighed and turned to the poor thing as she pulled out a scrubbing brush. "Sorry," I apologized on behalf of the idiot on the bed. "She can be really rude sometimes but it's got nothing to do with you, promise."

Mayonnaise looked back up, saw that I was talking to her, and paused. She looked at the woman on the bed, and then turned back to me, confusion pulling at her eyebrows. "Pardon me?"

I blinked. "I said, I'm sorry?"

"Sorry?"

"Yes."

"What for?"

I stared at Mayonnaise, and she stared at me, both of us with deepening looks of confusion on our faces.

"For what she said," I said slowly, pointing at Elenya.

The elf blinked, and looked at the girl on the bed again. "What… did she say?"

"You didn't _hear?" _I asked incredulously.

"I did not understand," she replied, as if it was the most obvious thing.

We stared at each other once more.

I opened my mouth, and then shut it again. Mayonnaise made as if to turn back to her task, saw me open my mouth, stopped, and then stared at me some more.

Alatariel sneezed from the couch, where she had gone unnoticed until that very moment.

There was a rather short, deeply awkward silence.

"Well… Doesn't matter, then." I hesitated a moment longer, then turned and left for my room.

Three steps later, I nearly tripped over the pack in the hallway. After a brief bout of swearing, I regained my balance, walked into my room and then nearly tripped over the tub.

I swore just a little bit more, and then kicked it, which only made my fashionable brown sack of dress get wet, and my big toe throb, and I didn't feel any better for it.

"God damn it all!" I yelled in frustration.

I turned and grabbed my door, ready to slam it shut, only to find Mayonnaise sending me a very worried look as she stepped out of Elenya's room. She deftly skirted the pack on the floor and hurried away.

I sighed irritably, and forced myself to shut the door softly.

Thirty seconds later, as I was foraging through my room in search of a key to lock my door with, Elenya burst in.

"Don't you _dare _put me on the spot like that again!" she snarled, a mysterious wind picking up from inside my room, apparently, and whipping her hair dramatically around her face.

"…Um?" I said.

"Apologising on my behalf? She didn't even know I'd SAID it! I didn't even SAY anything! _I'm_ boss around here, okay? _I_ make all the rules, and _I_ speak for us as a whole, _not _you! And it's about high time you realized that!"

I stared at her placidly, calm in the face of her ire, and clasped my hands in front of me. "Yes, ma'am."

She narrowed her eyes and took a step forward, hair flapping wildly around her head. "Do you _mock _me?" she hissed dangerously.

I smiled and tilted my head, a strand of brown hair falling calmly forward and sitting against my cheek. "Yeah, a little bit. Also, I think your fan is on a bit too strong. I can't actually see your face through your hair anymore."

She growled at me and vainly pushed hair out of her eyes. "Look, Nessa, I don't -"

"Okay, hold on a sec. Why don't we just put down the crack pipe and come back to reality?" I put a hand on my hip and stared at her. "My _name _is Amelia. A-me-li-a. Millie will do just fine! I don't see what you're doing with this stupid Nessa thing, but it's retarded, so stop it."

Her wind calmed down and her hair settled back around her in a halo of frizz. She smirked suddenly and didn't seem to notice. "I already told you," she said cockily. "Nessa sounds more elfish."

I pinched the bridge of my nose, and sighed.

"Alright, let's go through this logically," I said, holding up a finger. "Firstly, it's not _elfish, _it's _Elvish. _Secondly, no. No, it does not sound Elvish at all. It sounds like a Vanessa got drunk one night, and forgot how to say her name. And thirdly, _thirdly, _you insipid little girl… do I _LOOK _like an elf to you?"

And then she had the nerve, the _nerve, _to smirk. "Well, no, actually. But since you're travelling with two _elfs _from the long lost City of the Glittering Sun…"

I sighed once more for good luck, and stared at the ceiling. "Ellen, are you even listening to -"

"YA!" she suddenly shrieked, her small hands curling into fists as the mysterious wind picked up again, whipping her hair straight into her mouth and muffling her next words. "Ma na'e ith Elen_YA!_" she choked, spat, and glared hotly at me.

"Oh, I'm ever so _dearly_ sorry for butchering your delicate, presumably Elven name!" I shot back sarcastically, tucking my normal, lifeless hair behind my ear.

"I've had just about enough of this Nessa -"

"_AMELIA!_"

"_Who cares? _You're fat and ugly anyway!"

"UGH!" I yelled, throwing my hands up in defeat. "Well you're so… so… blonde!"

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah!"

"Well… good! I like it like that!"

"I'm happy for you!"

"I'm happy for me, too!"

"Great!"

And on that high note, I ordered her out of my room, slammed the door shut, turned, and fell directly into my bathtub.


	3. Meetings and Greetings

**Chapter 3 - **_"Meetings and Greetings"_

That night, the stars were beautiful.

I knew this, because I had been wandering Rivendell for a good two-and-a-half hours, blundering hysterically through gardens and courtyards without so much as a lantern, in a desperate attempt to find a toilet.

I am a compulsive Night Time Wee-er, you see, and though I've been aware of this oddity of mine for most of my life – and did in fact briefly contemplate the situation that afternoon after clambering out of my tub, tripping over my sodden dress, and landing face first on the ground mere inches from the chamber pot sitting under my bed – the knowledge of my compulsive Night Weeing urges was largely overridden by my compulsive Laziness, and I didn't do anything about it.

And so, I was left to flounder blindly through an unfamiliar place in the middle of the night without any light to see where I was going.

If you were wondering, I didn't find the toilet in the duration of this time. Instead I eventually found myself at the foot of a large, sweeping building that had nothing to do with anything I was looking for, and I had no idea how I'd gotten there.

This was _not_ a good thing, obviously.

But there was an up side to the situation. The building, which was structured as a hall of sorts, was quite large and seemed mostly lit by warm, flickering firelight. I couldn't see or hear any signs of people inside, but usually when one saw a fire, one assumed (or rather hoped) that someone had lit it and might be close by.

My bladder gave an excited little jolt at the thought of possible directions to a bathroom, and I had to take a moment to make sure that I had complete control over all my bodily functions before moving forward.

After just a few steps though, I paused as a sudden thought hit me. This large hall, lit by what appeared to be one central fire, seemed to me very much like it could have been the Hall of Fire mentioned in the books, where Bilbo sat and wrote songs and was reunited with Frodo probably only yesterday, if my timeline was correct and the 'meeting' I was waiting for Elenya and Alatariel to come out of today was the Council of Elrond (which it probably was).

I took a deep, slow breath, and smiled.

Now it may have been that this hall was just some other random hall with a huge bonfire lit in the middle even when it appeared that no-one was actually inside, but, you know… It may also have been _the_ Hall of Fire that was kept lit and open on all days of the year no matter what. And that's just a little bit cool, no?

As I took a moment to look at it properly, my eyes glanced over a figure with their back against the wall, and I paused. I squinted to my left in the pale night light, and sure enough, leaning against part of the building I was just about to pass, arms folded and a goblet dangling from between his fingers, a Very Good-Looking Elf stood staring at the stars. I had immediately assumed he was an Elf, because of the fact that he was so extremely Very Good-Looking.

His dark hair was loose and swept over his shoulders, little wisps of which were tickling his chin and neck in the soft breeze. I stood transfixed for a long, long moment, just looking at him, and getting quite decidedly _over_ my mild, recently acquired Elf-phobia.

_Well._

I wrapped my robe tightly around myself, (did I mention I was in my pyjamas, wrapped within a suspiciously conveniently acquired robe that I had found in my closet?) and, while continuing to stare, decided that he was a much more viable source of information than a probably empty hall. Much more viable.

Then I considered suddenly how awkward it would be if he were to turn and find me gawping at him, so I hurriedly spoke, making my way closer to him. (So I could get a better look at his extreme Viability, of course.)

"Hey," I said wittily.

He turned his eyes away from the sky and looked at me, an expression on his face that seemed to imply he hadn't noticed me standing there. With a cursory glance, his lips lifted in a small, polite smile, and he inclined his head.

"Hello," He returned, and then seemed ready to faze back into his own thoughts.

"Nice sky you're looking at – I mean, you know…" I'd blurted the first thing that came to my head in an attempt to keep his mind in the present – 'cause I'm just real smooth like that – but having immediately regretted my awkward choice of words, I reached for a lock of my hair to tug at, and tried to make it better. "I noticed you were looking at it, the sky that is, and it's… nice. Tonight."

He glanced languidly up at the stars. "Yes, it is."

And then he didn't say anything else, just looked back at me.

I shifted uncomfortably. "I… noticed it while I was walking around."

He looked back at me, eyebrows crawling upwards. "Did you, now?" I wasn't sure if I'd imagined the slight quirking of his lips.

"Well, I mean, kind of. Yes. I did." I yanked at my hair and blushed. "It's sort of… sparkly. I mean, hard to miss. It's hard to miss. Look, anyway, that's not the point. I don't really care about the sky, well, right now, because it's not as important as my bladder. _Um!_ Not as important! Right! I don't… think…"

His lips were definitely drawing into a smile now, as he stood there and watched me stick my foot further down my own throat.

"Look, whatever," I continued, throwing the lock of hair back over my shoulder. "What I'm trying to say is; could you possibly give me directions? I've been walking around for a while and I'm a little bit hideously lost at this point."

His shifted his body so that his shoulder rested against the wall, and faced me with what was undeniably an amused look on his face, his goblet softly tapping against the wall as it swung idly in his fingers. "That depends on where you need to go," he replied.

"Um, yes, I'm looking for the bathrooms. No that's a lie, I don't need a bath. I need a… a lavatory." We mustn't forget that 'bathrooms' and 'poo holes' are not one and the same thing here. Plumbing had not allowed for that to be developed sanitarily, yet.

"Ah, well that is easy," He replied, nodding to something behind me and slightly to the right. "Follow the path that leads that way for a short while, and you will eventually come to a fork in the lane. The left branch leads to the lavatory, and the right to the guest's quarters. Though…" he trailed off, mirth still clear on his features even as his eyebrows drew faintly together.

"…Yes?" I prompted, when he seemed a bit reluctant to continue.

"Forgive me, but I must ask. Was your room not… adequately equipped to, ah, deal with the situation?"

"Huh?" I replied intelligently. Then the light switch flicked in my head, and I scrunched my nose in disgust. "Oh, you mean the bed pan? Gross, you can't _actually_ expect me to wee in a bowl?"

This response apparently caught him off guard, and he let out a surprised burst of deep, clear laughter.

"What is your name?" he asked, the laughter still vibrating through his voice as he unfolded his arms and bounced off the wall.

"Me? Oh, I'm Amelia," I replied.

"Amelia? That is an interesting name." He rolled the word over his tongue with a faint accent, emphasising the 'i' instead of the 'e'. "I've not heard anything like it," he murmured, as a set of doors opened in the distance. The firelight from inside briefly washed over us, its faint light showing his dark hair to be a deep, warm brown, before the doors swung shut and the white glow of the moon settled on his features once more.

I shrugged nonchalantly. "I'm not exactly from around these parts."

He raised an eyebrow at my mysterious answer, lips quirking once more, but before he could respond, a pitch of familiar giggles wafted through the air and settled unwanted into my ears. I stiffened, unwittingly cutting him off as I turned suddenly towards the sound, a look of despair slowly etching into my features.

The elf followed my gaze curiously, and we both watched as two women dressed in flowing evening gowns glided down the few stairs at the doorway of the hall, and onto the lawn. Their hair cascaded down their backs, one like the sun come out at night and the other like the very night itself, as their tresses shimmered in the light of the stars. Their gowns, which were form fitting in all the right places, yet loose and elegant at the hips and sleeves, seemed to glitter in the faint night glow, and the soft _woosh _of the delicate material could almost be felt as a faint breeze picked up the ends of their hair and the hems of their dresses. They stood facing each other, talking softly, so feminine and fair in the moonlight as to surely bring a tear to the eyes of any watching mortal soul, who would despair at the thought of them one day leaving and no longer gracing Middle Earth with their ethereal presence. Or something like that.

"Oh, God," I muttered as I stared at them.

The Elf glanced between the two seemingly random people in the distance, and my face, with a raised eyebrow.

"Okay, well, thanks for the help!" I declared suddenly at him. "I've gotta go now. Sorry about the abrupt departure, but, you know, it's getting late, should be off to bed. Toilet's this way right? Yep? Okay fantastic…"

"_Nessa?" _a lilting voice called from across the courtyard. "_Nessa, is that you?"_

"N-No!" I answered immediately, turning to face them. "No, I'm… Chinquita! From… ah, Bree, well…" I turned quickly to my new elven friend and opened my mouth to excuse myself as the girls began heading towards us.

"I thought you said-" he began, eyebrows creasing.

"Yes, yes, my name. Whatever." I interrupted him, eager to leave. "Don't listen to them, they've gone rabid. I _am _Amelia and I refuse to go by any other name. Well I mean, you can call me Millie if you like but anyway that's beside the point, the point is they're coming towards us now so I'll see you some other time, probably. I've _really _gotto go nice meeting you _bye!"_

I turned and walked away as quickly as I could.

About two seconds later, I turned back around, even as I continued walking backwards. "Hey, by the way!" I half shouted at him, looking periodically over my shoulder to make sure I didn't trip over anything. "Is that the Hall of Fire?"

"_Nessa? Where are you going?_" Alatariel's tinkering tones called out from halfway across the lawn.

The Elf looked across at the two women walking towards him, and then back at me, a vaguely bewildered look of amusement on his face (which is a really difficult expression to pull off, let me tell you). "Yes," He replied. "It is."

I grinned, turned, and was gone.

.~.~.~.

After I'd found the toilet, (which was no where near as bad as I was expecting it to be. Cleanest Port-a-Potty I've ever been to, anyway, even if I had to wipe with leaves) I headed happily back towards our lodgings, feeling considerably lighter than I had two-and-a-half hours earlier.

As I entered my unlit room – which did not need to be unlocked, if you were wondering, because broom closets don't deserve security – I noticed that my window was still open. It was actually a very uninteresting thing to note, and I immediately ignored it.

I walked instead towards the wall, and began groping my way across the dark room, heading for the bed. Unfortunately for me I had completely forgotten that, after having no idea what to do with my tub of old bathwater earlier that afternoon, I'd spent a good fifteen minutes pushing it against the wall so as not to trip into it again. As a consequence of this, my shuffling along the wall in an almost entirely darkened room caused me to trip into it again.

A lot of yells, curses, and splashes then filled the room.

I hate that damn tub, by the way.

"…_and then STAB THINGS with a_ _BIG SHARP KNIFE!_" is what I ended my tirade with, as I clambered out of the tub for the third time that night, struggling with the now extremely heavy robe that was attempting to constrict the very life out of me.

"And now, _now _I don't have anything to wear! All my clothes are _wet," _I pulled violently at the long sleeve clinging to my arm, getting only a squelching sound for my efforts."My conveniently found robe is _wet," _I flapped my arm instead, and sprayed the room with water, wrapping the robe more firmly around my limb in the process."The conveniently acquired undershift it came with is _wet," _I gave up on the sleeve and stumbled backwards towards my bed, now working on finding the opening so I could just throw the robe off. "And the stupid brown dress I don't even like is also _wet! _I have _nothing_ to wear, because it's all _WET, WET, WET!"_

I found the split in the material, yanking it open as I turned towards my window.

And looked directly down into the eyes of a strange man, who was standing meters from my window, looking directly back up at me.

I froze, my arms holding my robe wide open, leaving my wet, white undershift exposed.

The man startled, and then froze as well.

It was a long, stunned moment.

Then I made a faint choking sound, and shut my robe as fast as I could as the man took half a step back, turned, and began hurrying away.

"Hey!" I shouted, before I was aware of what I was doing. "_Wait a second!"_

He barely managed a few steps before he hesitated, but didn't turn.

"Come back here!" There was a pause and I shivered, wet hair dripping into my eyes, before the man dug his hands deep into his pockets, cringed, and turned around.

"What the _hell _do you think you're doing, you filthy, filthy perv?"

He didn't say anything, just stood with his shoulders hunched and glanced nervously up at me, the pale night sky briefly illuminating a stubbly chin and dark eyes. I folded my arms tightly around myself, and glared.

"I… I apologise good lady, I-" he started after a moment, voice hesitant.

"Oh, you're _sorry _now are you?" I interrupted, feeling the distinct urge to shove my hands on my hips – though I kept them wrapped securely around my robe. "Really, that _does _lay my fears to rest now, thanks. What the _hell _were you doing outside my window?"

No response. I huffed and crossed my arms tighter, staring down my nose at him as he continued to shuffle uncomfortably. "Well?"

"I…" he tried again, looking shortly up at me. "I didn't… I was only going for a walk-"

"Didn't look like you were doing much walking to me." I interrupted again.

"N-no, no well I mean I _was _walking, and-"

"Yes? And?"

"I-I… I…" His face became a few shades darker, and I realised he was blushing furiously as he stared steadfastly at the wall underneath me. He looked like he was about to scuff his toe against the grass.

I stared at him with raised eyebrows. The thought that if he really was the Peeping Tom type, he wouldn't have wanted me to see his face and would probably have continued off into the darkness to begin with, fluttered through my mind.

"You were lurking in the distant shadows, staring through the opened window of a woman's bedroom. If that isn't an attempt at perving, then I don't know what is."

He turned immediately up at me, a sincere expression on his flaming face. "No, my lady, that was not my intention, I swear to it! I did not mean to… ah, l-look. I was… I only… there- there is hardly any light anyway, I can't… I did not even know there was anyone…"

My eyebrows rose still further, and I realised that he was actually much more embarrassed by this whole situation than anything else. I unfolded my arms and leaned my elbows against the sill.

"Oh, really, so you just _happened _to be standing there all this time, so that when I came to the window you were… you were… standing there? Is that the way it is?"

Just for the record, I _do _understand that I can become quite inarticulate when flustered. I am aware of this fact. There's just not much I can do about it.

"No, I was not -! I did not -!" he said, completely embarrassed and yet adamantly defendant of his innocence. His lips tightened, and he looked abruptly to the side.

Then he took a deep breath and turned back to me. "I was… " he tried again, running a hand over his face. "I was walking in the gardens, and upon returning to my quarters found myself in a different section. I didn't know where I was, or- or how to get back to my room, and… and suddenly I heard a commotion from your window, and a lot of yelling and… cursing and I looked up and then you, uh, well, turned and threw your robe off… and then I thought to leave you to your privacy but you yelled again so… I… just…" He trailed off awkwardly, looking so thoroughly embarrassed, so deeply mortified by this whole situation, that I couldn't actually stop myself from feeling suddenly rather sorry for him.

"I have never been here before," he muttered dejectedly. "This damnable place is so confusing…"

"Well," I said after a moment of watching him squirm. "If that'sthe way it is, then."

He paused and looked up at me. "Uh, yes? It is?"

I responded with a roll of my eyes. "_Really. _So then what are you doing skalking around the gardens in the middle of the night?" He didn't need to know that I'd been doing the exact same thing not minutes ago.

"I could not sleep." He crossed his arms. "What were you doing…bathing… at this time?"

I stared down at him. "I was _not_ bathing." I said, water dripping from every part of my body as I leaned forward on the sill. "I just… fell."

He blinked, and tried to just accept my answer politely so as not to offend me further.

"Oh," he said. "Right."

I smiled just the teeniest, tiniest bit. "I didn't know what to do with the bath tub they left me with."

It took him a moment, but he recognised my attempt at lightening the mood and smiled back at me, his whole body exhaling with relief, is if some great danger had passed.

"Yes, they hadn't come back for mine either." He replied, rubbing the back of his neck with a grin.

I smiled and shook my head, little droplets of water spraying the windowsill.

There was a short pause, and I watched him stand around awkwardly for a moment as he sighed and dropped his hand. Then he looked back in the direction he had probably come from, and turned back to me.

"I, uh…" he began, squinting up at me slightly. "I had better… get back…"

"Hold on," I leant forward, palms against the sill, and smirked at him a little. "I should know who I've had the honour of stripping for, shouldn't I?"

He blushed again and cleared his throat, pushing a lock of dark hair off his face. "I… Boromir. Of Gondor." his tone sounded rather resigned, and he looked away uncomfortably.

My smile froze, and I stared at him.

"Oh." I managed.

There was a long, empty moment. Then he looked tentatively back up at me, and I forced my muscles to relax. "Well, Boromir of Gondor. You can call me Millie."


	4. Say What?

**Chapter 4 - **_"Say What?"_

My door shuddered violently in its frame, pounding rhythmically as someone on the other side angrily attempted to bang it clean off its hinges.

"_Nessa!" _A slightly muffled voice called shrilly from outside my room."For crying out loud, we've gotta go to breakfast!"

I groaned and ducked my head more securely under my quilt, ignoring the wailing tones as best I could.

"_NESSA!" _

The pounding became less frequent, but louder, as if the banger was really throwing some arm into it.

"_Get out of bed you lazy piece of-_"

"NO!" I yelled back angrily, curling into myself and squeezing my eyes more firmly shut, as if that would make any kind of difference. "You can't make me!"

"GET OUT OF BED! _GET OUT OF BED!_"

"_NEVER!_"

There was a frustrated screech, and with one last _THUMP _my door stopped banging. The angry hiss of conversation barely made it to my ears through the thick wooden door, and then there was silence. For one brief, hopeful moment, I thought they would give up.

Then Elenya's voice sounded again, calmer and more controlled. "That's it, you filthy little grub; I'm coming in."

"NO!" I shrieked, sitting up suddenly and wrapping my sheets securely around myself. "I – I'm not wearing anything!"

There was a pause.

"She – what?" Alatariel's more muted voice asked, "Why is she naked?"

"She's not," Elenya replied sharply. "She's just _saying _that so she doesn't have to _get her fat ass out of BED!" _The last few words were accompanied with a few more bangs on the door.

"Yes, I am!" I warned loudly, hoping that they would just believe me and go away. "I'm not wearing a shred of clothing, and if you come in I'll know you're just desperate to see my naked body and we'll never be able to look each other in the eye again!"

Unfortunately, Elenya seemed to take this as a challenge more than anything else, and after a resolute "_That's it!_" my door flew open and the two Elves piled in.

"_LESBIANS!"_ I screamed without wasting a moment, pointing one accusing, unclad arm at them through the many folds of my sheets as I scuttled back on the bed. "Get out of my room! I have no wish to be defiled on this day!"

The two girls froze in shock, (well, Elenya did anyway. Alatariel just sort of stopped walking and stared absently ahead) as I continued to scramble backwards.

"What the –?" Elenya began, but was immediately interrupted when I let out a high squeal, flailed my limbs in a flurry of bed sheets and naked flesh, and toppled over the side of the bed.

"I… " said Elenya.

"Oh God, my _arm!_" I yelled from the floor, writhing in a pool of white linen.

Elenya's expression turned to one of deep repulsion and she turned away, as if the very sight of me made her sick. That was when she noticed the many wet items of clothing I had hung on various artefacts of furniture around the room, some of which were still dribbling into small, self-made puddles on the floor. Hesitantly, she stretched out a hand towards my vanity and picked up a sodden robe daintily between thumb and forefinger, studied it with a look that suggested somebody had wafted a pot of faeces under her nose, and then dropped it on the floor with a wet smack.

She turned back to me, and stared.

I was still struggling valiantly on the floor at this point, having felt a very suspicious draft against my bum that I thought needed some coverage, but I felt the heavy weight of her immortal gaze resting upon my soul, and looked up at her innocently.

"It wasn't me," I proclaimed instinctively, as I lay cocooned and now practically immobile on the floor, my face peeking out from within my blankets.

Elenya looked at me for a long, disgusted moment. Then she spun on her heels, and headed out without another word, dragging Alatariel with her. The door slammed behind her with one last, angry _BANG. _

.~.~.~.

Fifteen minutes later, after having conveniently found another dress hidden suspiciously in my formerly empty closet – this one more Elven in design than my previous milkmaid outfit – I made my way down to the hall where breakfast was being served. Upon entering the room, I immediately veered in the opposite direction to where I saw my two unwanted alarm clocks sitting, realised I was heading towards a group of dwarves, subtly walked back around in a sharp v-turn and noticed I was heading towards what looked very much like it could have been Elrond, looped a wide figure of eight around a table of hobbits and decided to just stick with the people I knew. Things just seemed less complicated that way.

Sidling into a seat opposite the two I had initially been avoiding, I pulled up a plate and surveyed my selection of food. It took several seconds before my arrival was noticed by the chatting women I had come to sit with, but when it was, Alatariel dropped the piece of bread she was fiddling with and beamed at me, her shiny black curls bouncing happily as she clapped once in eager excitement.

"Oh yay, you found it!" she exclaimed happily, studying me with a grin that was all together too… well, happy.

"What?" I gave her a suspicious look and glanced down at myself, as I loaded some grapes to my plate.

Elenya looked up from the boiled egg she was peeling, caught my eye, and then rolled her own. "Good grief," she said by way of greeting. "Where did you find _that_ dress now?"

I shrugged slowly, and adjusted the perfectly nondescript neck line of my perfectly nondescript dress. (As it were, there hadn't been any convenient bras or panties to be found in my magical closet, and as the ones I'd brought with me from home were a little on the soggy side, I was, shall I say, free-boobing it.)

Elenya shook her head dismissively at the careful look I was giving her, and turned to Alatariel to pick up some apparently unfinished conversation. I instantly got bored of them, and everything they were talking about. Blowing a brown wisp of hair out of my eyes, I stopped adjusting my breasts, cupped my chin in my hand, and stared absently around the hall with a sigh.

Cue contemplative observations. Mind, when I say 'contemplative observations', it should probably be taken into account that I actually mean 'blankly staring around at all the people in the room in a way that suggests contemplation but really lends itself more towards vacant eye-wanderings'.

I'm all deep and meaningful like that.

I picked at a couple of the purple grapes on my plate, and allowed my eyes to slide lazily around the hall; over all the seated elves with their graceful gestures and graceful socialising and graceful breathing. Whether they were merry and full of laughter, or solemn and dignified, or had just taken a particularly large bite of food, they were always, _always_ graceful about it. It wasn't their fault they were so perfect, I'm sure, but seriously. Did they have to? I mean yeah sure, it was amazing just being in the same room as elves, let alone this many of them. So their very presence felt almost like a soothing balm on the soul, melting away worries and doubts if only for a little while, if only you'd just let them. So all the things you thought you should be worrying about faded into the background, and suddenly the buzz of contented people eating breakfast and socialising was enough to paint a smile on your lips. So… so I'd forgotten what I'd been annoyed about earlier on and couldn't remember why I should care. So what? It was a beautiful day and I wanted my breakfast.

I pushed some more hair off my forehead, (I'd never been good with bobby-pins, and now they were unfortunately the only things holding my hair back) and reached for a slice of what looked suspiciously like Turkish bread.

But before I could do much more than drop the bread on my plate, there was a sudden yelp and a great clatter in the middle of the hall. I turned and to my surprise, was gifted with the vision of a giggling hobbit lying strewn across the floor, amongst several pillows and a plateful of scattered food. Four other hobbits, balancing on their seats on stacks of cushions much like the ones that were now scattered across the floor, gave an impression of exasperated eye-rolling.

A grin spread suddenly across my face at the unfolding scene as the hobbit sitting nearest to the now empty chair dusted off his hands in a deliberate manner, hopped off his own seat, picked up the pillows from his chair and headed towards the exit, stepping over his downed friend on the way out.

The other three looked at each other. With a casual word, the younger two slid out of their seats and helped the third, white-haired hobbit down as well. After gathering their own pillows, they too stepped over their floor-bound, still giggling friend, and headed for the door.

In front of me, Elenya and Alatariel smiled knowingly across at the hobbits, identical, loving twinkles in their eyes, as they watched over their shoulders the innocent cheerfulness displayed across the room. Then, after a perfectly timed pause that showed they cared for the sweet, sweet hobbits but had more important, elvey things to be worrying about, they turned back to each other and continue their quiet discussion on some sort of secret plan about sexy men and travelling, or something.

In an attempt to stop my brain form leaping directly out of my ears in self-defence against the sheer inanity of their babbling, I completely blocked them out, reaching instead for a knife to butter my bread as I focused all of my remaining attention on the last hobbit, who was now scrambling up off the floor.

My eyes tracked his movements as he scooped up his pillows, gingerly reached for one last apple off the table around his armful, and hurried out after the others. But as he headed towards the door on the opposite side of the hall to me, I noticed someone he passed directly, and got distracted. I blinked. There was something very familiar about the dark-haired Elf who sat at the end of the table eating. Something was floating along the edges of my memory, trying to place him, and as he finished his meal with a drum of his fingers against the edge of the table and leaned back, I almost felt as if… I thought… did I…?

There was a sudden clatter before me, and Alatariel hurriedly righted the now empty goblet she had just tipped over, barely paying it any attention as she stared raptly at Elenya.

"Yeah, but like… how do we _know_ that'll work?" she asked in a forcibly hushed whisper.

I scrambled to staunch the flow of water across the table with my napkin, as the women opposite me continued to mutter in excited tones.

"What do you mean 'how do we know'? Of _course_ we know! You _know _we know because that's how it works! And it _always _works."

I sighed and continued to Not Care about the stupid conversation in front of me, as I tossed the soaking napkin suspiciously close to Alatariel, sparing a brief moment to watch it start dribbling towards her sleeve before looking back across at the Elf I had been staring at.

Where did I _know _him from? I'd felt like I was about to place him before being so rudely interrupted. I narrowed my eyes and stared at him, hoping that he would look up through the force of my will alone. Of course I'd probably just seen him walk past me at some point in the last day-and-a-bit I'd been here, as there was really no _other _way I could conceivably recognise an Elf. But the niggling feeling was persistent, as if this wasn't the case, and I continued to stare.

He then looked up, (though probably not because of any telepathic messages I was sending) a smile gracing his features as he spotted something at the set of doors behind me, and after a long blank moment I suddenly remembered. He was the elf I'd met the night before, in front of the Hall of Fire. _Der!_

I smiled proudly at my amazing skills of deduction, barely even registering the annoying conversation before me anymore amidst the gentle hum of a hall full of chatter.

My midnight buddy's smile turned into a grin as two men walking towards him stopped beside his table, angled away from me. Both were tall and dark-haired, though one had considerably shorter black hair than his companion, and seemed a little more raggedy. The one with longer hair rested a palm against the table, and leaned forward.

"No, no, I trust you!" Alatariel's voice, suddenly raised, cut through the background hum. "I just wasn't... wasn't sure."

"As if I would bring us _all this way _if it wasn't a sure thing, Alatariel!"

I continued to Not Pay Attention to the girls as I stared past them.

The dark haired Elf on the other side of the room sat back in his chair, his smile fading and his eyebrows drawing together. He said something to his standing companions, his eyes flicking between the two of them, and got a nod in response from the upright one as the other leaned forward further.

"Well anyway, we should probably start getting ready to leave, then. It'll be decided soon, right?"

"Yeah, probably."

Across the hall, the Elf nodded to his companions, playing with a napkin for a moment before his lips moved once more and he stood, all mirth gone from his features.

Opposite me, Alatariel and Elenya stood too.

"Well, we're gonna go pack now!" Alatariel told me brightly, flicking her own napkin into a neat little basket sitting beside a stack of clean ones on the table.

I frowned again, and pulled my eyes towards them.

"Pack?" I asked uncertainly.

"Well, yeah. We'd tell you to pack too, but all _your _clothes are wet." Elenya announced, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she stepped away. "You can just meet us in our rooms when you're done here."

"Wait a minute, wait a minute… _Pack?_" I stood hastily as they began to leave. "What d'you mean, _pack? _Where are we going? Hey!"

I hurried around the table to catch up with them as they headed out the door, standing in Elenya's way as I caught up a few steps from the entrance. "Hold on!" I said, both palms up and facing the girls in an effort to stay them.

"What!" Elenya snapped, grabbing Alatariel's elbow so that she wouldn't keep walking.

"What's going on? Why on earth are you packing?"

Elenya made a _tsk _noise with her tongue and suddenly resumed walking. "Don't be such an idiot." She muttered, still holding on to Alatariel as she progressed down the wide hallway. "Why do you _think _we're packing?"

I scrambled after them. "You're asking _me _to tell _you _what's going on within those three brain cells you two share?"

Elenya sent me a withering glare, and dragged Alatariel out into a courtyard.

"Well obviouslywe're _going somewhere_, aren't we!" she exclaimed as I pulled up beside her. She huffed when I didn't immediately understand whatever she was hinting at, and walked faster.

I pulled back and looped around the two, so that I was power-walking beside Alatariel.

"I still fail to understand what the rush to leave is. Not that I even know what you're doinghere in the _first_ place…"

"I _told _you we're here 'cause our kingdom was massacred and we seek counsel!" Elenya explained with exasperation, at the same time that Alatariel happily chirped in with, "We've got to be ready to leave with the Fellowship when they go!"

Something in me died with that last sentence. I think perhaps it was my sanity.

My hand shot out to grab Alatariel's other arm as I froze in my tracks, and for a moment she was yanked violently between the two of us, before Elenya stopped as well.

"What," I stated emotionlessly. Though I should have known, I should have _known…_

"I _said,_" Elenya said, letting go of Alatariel to face me properly. "That our families are all dead and our kingdom destroyed, and we came –"

"Shut up," I didn't even look at her as I grabbed Alatariel's shoulders and whirled her to face me. "_What_ did you say?"

Alatariel smiled and opened her mouth to respond.

"Nothing! Whatever!" Elenya butted in, grabbing her friend once more. "We're joining the Fellowship. And we need to pack." She began hauling Alatariel across the grass once more. "You got a problem with that?"

My mouth dropped open. I went after them again.

"_Yes I have a problem with that!_" I hissed, aware of the few elves floating past and not wanting to draw too much attention to our topic of debate. I resumed my previous hold on Alatariel's other arm, and tried to slow their progress. "You can't just… you _can't just do that! _What are you, insane?"

Elenya responded only by lifting her chin and pulling her friend along faster.

My fingers clamped down on Alatariel's arm and I pulled her roughly to a stop beside me, forcing Elenya to stop with her. Alatariel's dark, sculpted brows creased, and she mouthed a soft _'ow!' _down at where I was holding her arm. I let go, and took a step towards Elenya.

"_Do you have any idea what you're doing?_" I ground out between clenched teeth.

Elenya's chin tilted further up, golden hair flicking over her slender shoulders. "Yes, I do," she responded curtly.

"_No,_" I glared back at her. "You _don't._"

"What. Ever," she said coldly, her bright eyes flashing. "We're doing it anyway, and there's nothing you can do to change that."

I crossed my arms over my chest, raking my eyes over her slim, defiant form.

"What am I worrying about, anyway?" I snorted after a moment. "As if Elrond's actually going to ask you to join this particular parade."

"Yes he will!" Her voice lifted an octave, and her hands curled into fists by her sides. "If I can bring us – _you _here; if I can bring _you_ here from where _you _came from, and don't think I don't know where that is, then I can be in the Fellowship! _We _can be in the Fellowship!"

My face fell – because you have to admit, whatever she was doing had obviously worked – and then immediately scrunched in frustration.

I came very near to stomping my foot angrily. "Listen, you can't just barge in and do whatever you please with these people!"

"Yes I _can!_"

"My God, you're a child!" I threw my hands up in aggravation, and then made an effort to calm myself down. "Okay look, how many people were originally in the Fellowship?"

She narrowed her blue eyes at me. "Nine. So?"

"That's right. Nine of the Fellowship to balance the nine Ringwraiths, that's the way Elrond orchestrated it. So where do you suppose, if there are only to be _nine_ in the Fellowship, that we fit in?"

Her glare intensified, and she mimicked my stance, crossing her arms over her chest with an annoyingly defiant attitude. "In the tenth, eleventh, and twelfth slots," she said haughtily.

"…I hate you."

"Good!"

We both glared daggers at each other.

"Do you have any idea how much you can and probably _will _affect things?" I tried for reason.

"Oh come on, don't be so dramatic!"

Reason failed me.

"We're only travelling with them, it's not like we're _killing _them or something!"

"You'll _change _things, just by being there, and probably end up killing the whole _world _if left to your own devices!" She looked somewhat affronted by that and opened her mouth, but I didn't give her a chance to speak.

"Do you think Elrond took his decision to make it nine willing companions lightly? No, he didn't. There are only _nine _members of the Fellowship. Even if I go along with your stupid plans and say we _are _going, then others will presumably be kicked out to make room for us. The first two will probably be Merry and Pippin, as they're logically the least likely candidates to be of any real help to the quest."

This got a little cry of disappointment from Alatariel, who stood watching us intently from the sidelines.

Elenya only pressed her full lips together. "So?" she said, a defensive edge to her voice. "I don't care. It's not like they _do _anything."

I stared at her for a long moment, and then decided it wasn't even worth mentioning. It just wasn't worth it.

I continued. "But that still leaves one more person who has to be left behind."

Elenya's nose scrunched up daintily. "Well… it'll probably be Gimli –"

"No it _won't_, Elrond chooses at least one representative of each of the free races of Middle Earth, and Gimli's the only Dwarf in the mix." I lifted a hand, and started counting down on my fingers.

"So that's Gimli, Frodo, Sam's already been chosen, Gandalf's the only wizard, Boromir's already heading back towards Gondor so he's going at least that far, then you two, and me. But oh, what's this?" I stared at my hands in dramatic confusion, wriggling my eight fingers in apparent dismay. "There's only one place left, and two people to fill it! Dear me…"

Glancing across I noticed Alatariel's green eyes were wide and shining; I at least had her undivided attention, even if Elenya was still clutching angrily to her denial.

"What's your point?" The blond woman snapped at me, eyes now narrowed to slits. "I don't care about your stupid –"

"_So,_" I raised my voice above hers, and talked on. "Who comes? Aragorn, or Legolas?" I relished the faint spark of panic that began to settle in her eyes, as her brain finally started to take her down the path I was pushing towards. "Aragorn is Isildur's heir, so the matter of the Ring directly concerns his line and himself. He also needs to eventually be in Gondor to reclaim the throne and set Middle Earth straight, as he's been pretty much forced to do so by Elrond himself if he ever wants to marry Arwen – so this journey will at least send him in the right direction. Plus he's already led the hobbits here from Bree and has proven himself trustworthy in their eyes, and Frodo at least would benefit from having another person he already knows and trusts on the quest with him."

I wiggled my fingers enticingly under Elenya's nose. "That leaves Legolas."

"But," Alatariel cut in softly, eyes darting between the two of us. "What… what about Boromir?"

I paused, and looked across at her. "He's… already heading back in the direction everyone else will be going, we've only just discussed this."

"No I mean, yeah, but you said he was just going to Gondor."

"Yes. Exactly."

"So um, how come he can't just go on his own? After?"

I stared at Alatariel for a long moment. "Because… it's… too dangerous. To travel alone. And he's already been chosen and you can't just go around un-choosing candidates for the all important quest."

"But –"

"_So that leaves Legolas!_" I interrupted forcefully, not about to let Alatariel,of all people, reason me out of my argument. Thankfully, Elenya appeared too used to ignoring the girl, and Alatariel too used to being dismissed, for either of them to do anything about it when I blatantly brushed her (unfortunately accurate) argument away. Thank God.

"He's an Elf, sure," I turned back to Elenya, watching delicate features crawl back into a scowl as I touched on an apparently sensitive subject. "But we already have two of those now, don't we? He's a formidable warrior, but so is near everyone else in the Fellowship; he's wise but we have Gandalf; he's a prince but we have a soon-to-be-king amongst our ranks; he's very pretty too, I guess, but then I'll be there so that's also taken care of. Hmm…" I sighed dramatically and dropped my hands to my side. "Well despite everything, I suppose Legolas will have to be left behind too! Oh dear, what an _absolute_ shame that turns out to be."

The pink tinge to Elenya's cheeks deepened angrily, and spread rather blotchily. She opened her mouth as if to tell me off, but then shut it with a snap and sent my way a glare so fierce I might have been intimidated if it were coming from anyone else. Fortunately for her, the almighty winds that had yesterday tried to blow dramatically around her had mysteriously disappeared, and without it she could leave with (a tiny eensy little bit of) dignity when she grabbed angrily for Alatariel once more and stormed off without another word.

I watched her go with a swell of satisfaction that very quickly turned hollow.

Somehow, _somehow,_ I didn't quite know if something as trivial and unimportant as mere Logic would be enough to stop those two.

I closed my eyes for a moment and sucked in a deep breath, which I then blew out in a frustrated huff, dreading with all my heart what could very well be rostered into my schedule in the next few months. I didn't want to have to deal with Questing around Middle Earth. I, unlike many little fanpoodles floating happily in self-made bubbles of joy and happiness and rainbows, had somewhat of an idea of how terrible this whole adventure they'd been planning would probably, realistically, be. And I was at least aware enough to know that actually I couldn't at _all_ imagine the real horrors of what war and battle and fear and _death _might be like, let alone willingly putting myself into that kind of situation.

I suppressed an angry, girly shrill, stomped my foot nice and good, whirled around on the spot and trumped off in the opposite direction the girls had headed in. I had no idea where I was going, of course, but the point was to just walk off the frustration and get myself as far from them as possible. Because symbolically, distance was important.

After a good seven or so minutes of brisk power-walking, my highly unfit body started to feel the strain, and I'd achieved my goal of exercising the rage out of my system. What I was left with as I slowed my steps and continued further from civilisation at a much more subdued pace, was a sort of boneless sense of dread and self-pity over my situation. Wah wah wah, why does this always happen to me, what did I ever do to deserve such misfortune and hardship; you know. That sort of thing.

When I eventually came across a stone bench on the edge of a steep incline, I slouched onto the seat without a thought and sighed. And suddenly a very large, very beautiful valley was staring me straight in the face, and it took me a full thirty seconds to notice it.

I sat up slightly, and looked around. Distantly, three dark figures and their horses stood conversing on a large flat outcrop of land that wound along the side of the slope much further down from me. I watched absently as the one with shorter, blacker hair mounted his horse and wheeled it around to face down the track. And then for the first time that I can remember, my attention was drawn away from the people and towards the living scenery around me. I don't know if nature had always been that beautiful and I simply hadn't noticed, or if it was the presence of the Elves – or both – but I was struck by the magnificence of the yellowing trees and the soft, golden-brown hue that was descending slowly over the entire dale. The quiet whisper of the trees and the faint murmur of running water filled me with a deep calm, and as the figures made their way out of Rivendell and the pure conversation of nature engulfed me, I relaxed more completely than I thought I would have been capable of at that moment, and found myself worrying over nothing else for a long, long time.


	5. Of Rocks and Packs and Odd Conversations

**Chapter 5 - **_"Of Rocks and Packs and Odd Conversations"_

Did you know that there was close to two months between the Council of Elrond, and the departure of the Fellowship from Rivendell?

Hmm, yes, this is a fact rather skipped out in most case scenarios, isn't it? A fact which nonetheless I had to live through, and which – when finding myself sitting on a rock just outside The Last Homely House with five men and a small group of well-wishers and onlookers – I had somewhat wished stretched out a little longer.

It _was _also a fact, though, that my dear companions Elenya and Alatariel had not at all been aware of back in those early days of our arrival. Which was actually kind of funny, especially after they had re-packed their belongings and sat waiting patiently for their call to arms for almost three days, before the little fact that the twin sons of Elrond had taken Aragorn orc-scouting seeped through their skulls, and they considered that they might actually have to wait 'till he came back before they could go on a quest with him.

Those silly little scrags. I still didn't even know how they had managed to worm us into the quest to begin with, and I wasn't about to stop being angry at them for it, let alone help them adjust their schedules according to their misinformation. It wasn't _my_ fault if they were idiots.

I shifted on my rock and stared at my newly packed belongings sitting at my feet, as we waited for the remainder of the travellers to arrive. We were four hobbits and two women away from the worst mistake of my life, and all I could do was stare. At my pack. Which was at my feet, if I hadn't already mentioned that. Which actually I had, but I'm thinking, hey, that pack was about to contain the entire contents of my life for many, many months to come. It deserves a second mentioning, no?

A pair of boots paced slowly past me as I stared (at my pack), and a muttered conversation to my right lifted briefly in a chorus of chiming laughter that faded a little too quickly. I sighed.

I hated life. I hated _life_,I really did. Just, in general. There was a lot of hate. From me, to life.

And really, why shouldn't I? I feel I was very much entitled to my emo session, what with being about to embark on a deadly adventure where death waited at every corner to leap on me and kill me to death. I was unprepared, unqualified, and unwilling – and I had no choice about it. Not if I wanted to keep this tale from destruction under the bafflingly successful stupidity of the two new key players; and certainly not if I ever wanted to get back to my _own_ home, because of course Elenya and Alatariel were my only hopes of ever achieving _that._ I mean, logically speaking, I was practically entirely reliant on them. They were the only people I really knew in this freaking place, the only ones who knew my story. Despite everything, if anything ever fell through with this whole Fellowship business, they were the only thing in the way of me permanently fading into the background and spending the rest of my days as some barmaid in Bree, or something. I didn't have anyone else. So I just had to stick them out. I saw no other real options, other than throwing a tantrum until I was allowed to bypass the quest and stay in Rivendell, and then – what. Nothing. That's right.

So I sat on my rock, and stared at my pack, and cooperated. For now.

Boots clonked evenly along the hard earth before me once more, and I glanced up as Boromir paced past with his hands clasped behind his back, sending me one slightly awkward glance (remnants of that fateful bathtub disaster not two months ago, I supposed) before entirely ignoring me once more.

How he could manage to remain so _even _and _composed _while his _sword hung at his hip _like that, I couldn't understand (I fathomed a guess it was because he often walked around with a sword at his hip like that – but that's beside the point). The point is, it was a weapon, and that weapon existed for protection, which meant that there were things to be protected against, which is obvious but reminded me that I was still pretty crap at doing that defending thing myself, and I couldn't understand how you could be calm while there were things trying to kill you. Even if they weren't doing it yet.

I sighed and twisted the coarse brown material of my dress between my fingers. I was going to die. I was going to get up, and go for an extended walk with a bunch of men, and then if I didn't manage to discover the secret underground lair hiding a portal back to sanity, I was _going _to_ die_. Because even though I had worried about my safety in the previous months, and struck up a conversation with a very lovely woman whose husband turned out to be very happy to pick up teaching once more and help me learn how to defend myself, I just knew I was going to die. Especially if my actual lessons were anything to go by, because honestly? Swordplay is _hard. _

And it's even harder if you're as naturally uncoordinated and incapable of syncing your body parts to move as a whole as I was. Only about four lessons in, as my instructor was teaching me how to wave my wooden sword around properly and I was responding with an aptitude towards wielding it as a potential instrument of suicide, he'd suddenly blown a sharp breath from his lips, crossed his arms over his chest, and just stared at me for a while.

It had been quite disconcerting. The next lesson we had, he presented me with a beautifully crafted, real-life _actually metal _sword, a lot shorter and lighter than the one I had previously been practicing for.

"Now," he'd told me with a stern look in his dark grey eyes, holding the sword flat out towards me so I could get a better look at its gleaming blade and simple black leather grip. "This is for one handed use. We do not have the time to teach you to use both your hands on a sword together, and then to teach you to use that sword at the level of competence you will need to actually defend yourself. So," He twisted the sword back suddenly with a flick of his wrist when I reached for it, and cocked an eyebrow.

"You can have this," he'd said, and dropped into the fighting stance he would later spend countless hours ingraining into my brain. "When you can make an acceptable effort of taking it from me."

Thankfully, he gave it to me at the end of our time together despite my continued incompetence, along with a few companion pieces (which was really a very, very generous gift on his behalf), all of which were now packed safely deep within my bag, where I wouldn't have to see or think about them for the time being. Because needless to say, I had not even come close to almost possibly making an acceptable effort of taking it from him, unless you count that one time I tried to sneak off with it after a lesson.

Perhaps my only hope of survival during the upcoming few months was to latch myself onto Aragorn, and hope that he would be good enough to defend me from all evil while I helpfully screamed in hysterics behind him. My eyes searched out the man in question, as he stood in deep conversation with Elrond and an animated swath of grey material also known as Gandalf. Well, the idea certainly had merit.

I was disrupted from any schemes I might have made to bring this plan of mine to fruition, however, when a band of hobbits finally trotted into view. I watched for a moment as they settled their pony by a tree, and began to slowly lade the beast with his burdens. Four down, two to go.

My heart began to pick up its pace, all of a sudden.

Still, maybe Alatariel had forgotten how to breathe and died, and Elenya could no longer make the journey in her sudden state of rabid grief from the loss? But who was I kidding, not even the dead carcass of her marble-skinned friend would stop Elenya from joining the Fellowship. There was no need to get my hopes up.

Boromir's feet trod heavily past once more, kicking up a fine mist of dust in his wake.

Halfway across the clearing, a dwarf began to systematically tap the handle of his axe against the rock he was sitting on.

And I felt like I was going to explode, what with all the sudden dramatic referencing to the passage of time through the rhythmic repetition of noises in allusion to the ticking of a clock-hand…

This my friends, was the point where I began to descend into a spiral of self-pitying and increasingly morbid thoughts, mostly revolving around how I would die – whether from orcs or goblins or from tripping over my feet and falling pointy-end-first onto my own sword. Luckily, I was cut short from these borderline hysterical thoughts before I could _really_ get inventive and start including innocent woodland creatures in the lead up to my demise, because at that moment a pair of soft, brown leather shoes made their way into my line of vision, and managed to thoroughly distract me. Mostly because they were directly in front of me and were attached to someone who was probably staring right at me, rather than because they were magic, disembodied dancing shoes or anything like that…

After a momentary pause as my mind adjusted back into reality, I looked up into the face of a very attractive blond elf, who was indeed looking down at me. There was a faint smile on his lips, and upon gaining my attention, he indicated the general area beside me with a polite nod.

"Is this seat taken?"

I blinked and, after a second of staring very blankly at him, scootched over and offered him some rock. He accepted gracefully, and sat.

Well, awkward.

My hands started picking at my skirts again, and I was once more staring at my pack, wondering idly why all the other hundreds of rocks in this general outdoor area were not apparently good enough for this person.

"I am Legolas," the elf said, distracting me from my thoughts once more, as he rested a hand on the stretch of stone between us and leaned on it.

I smiled weakly and shot him a quick glance. "Hi. Um, I'm Amelia."

"It is a pleasure, Amelia." His voice was cool and polite. Undemanding. "I understand that you too are joining Frodo on his journey, then?"

My smile was much tighter this time, and I kicked a bit of dirt at my pack. "Yep."

He hesitated a moment, and his foot shifted forward. Then he leaned closer, and when he next spoke his voice had dipped to a quiet murmur. "A little advice; try to sleep as far from Gandalf as you might. His snores have been rumoured to startle mountain trolls."

I turned back towards the elf in mild surprise. His face was passive, but for the smallest glimmer of humour in his eyes, and almost involuntarily I found my own lips twitching in response.

"_Really._"

"Oh, yes," he replied with an aloof lift of his brows. "A few yards' separation may not seem much, but at least you will not feel the earth beneath you rumbling."

I raised my own eyebrows with a snort. "And you would –"

"_Nessa! Where _have you been, you were supposed to help us pack!"

I jerked with surprise at the sudden intrusion, clutching at my heart as Elenya's sharp tones suddenly sounded directly behind me.

"What –?" I managed to splutter as I turned towards her, before the blonde woman continued on as if I wasn't trying to speak at all. She seemed in relatively high spirits, actually.

"You can look after these." Elenya dumped a very _large_ pack at my feet, and I noticed she was panting slightly from the effort of having to carry it. She gestured at Alatariel, standing a few steps behind her, to do the same. "We have to go talk to Elrond about stuff, so don't ruin them or whatever."

"Right. Well," I began, eyeing Elenya's enormous pack as Alatariel placed her own carefully down. "I hope you don't expect –"

"Wait, wait a minute, shut up. Who's that?" Elenya flapped a hand at my face and tilted her head around me, to get a better view of the elf I was sitting with. Then she blushed a faint pink. "_Oh! _H-hello," she stuttered.

I blinked a few times, and shot a look at Legolas, whose face was even more passive than before. A slow smile tried to crawl over my lips.

"I'm… I'm Elenya." She was still leaning oddly to the side as she talked to him from around me.

Legolas tilted his head in a nod. "I am Legolas."

"I know," she murmured under her breath in awe, eyes wide and shining.

"Excuse me?"

Elenya straightened herself suddenly as Legolas' eyebrows drew faintly together, his expression turning from politely apathetic to vaguely curious.

"Have we been introduced?" he asked.

"Uh, w-what?" Elenya's eyes widened even further, and she made a deal of fixing her hair. "I said 'hello'! Hello, again… Hello. I said hello," she smiled with her teeth, and her eyes darted slightly to the side. "Hello!"

Legolas continued to stare at her, his features stoic. "…Hello."

I coughed suddenly, a rather strangled, chokey kind of cough, and had to cover my mouth to muffle the sound. Of my coughing.

Elenya's blush was no longer faint. She laughed airily, making a blind grab for Alatariel behind her, and to my surprise _kept talking_. "Yes, _hello_, yes," she continued, her hand groping at empty air. "Nice to greet you. Anyway, we had better be on our way, what with needing to talk to Elrond of grave matters and such. Good day to you, sir!" Then she did an odd dip thing that might have been a curtsey, and, with Alatariel's forearm finally in her grasp, fled the scene.

I choked slightly and bit my lip, steadfastly avoiding the ice-blue gaze beside me for fear that I would not be able to contain my laughter any longer.

"Is she quite alright?" Legolas asked calmly, once Elenya was more or less out of earshot.

I pressed my fingers to my lips and snorted again, shaking my head.

"Not really sure," I managed to get out after a moment, and if it came across somewhat strained it was only because of my cough. I cleared my throat and grinned. "Probably just has a lot of grave matters and such on her mind."

Legolas' eyes danced, and he hummed faintly. "How odd."

My gaze flicked towards Boromir as he paced past once more, and then landed on Elenya making agitated hand gestures, as she and Alatariel strode in the general direction of Important People.

"I suppose you'll have to get used to that over the next few months," I muttered in amusement. "I think she rather fancies you."

"Really?" How a voice could sound perfectly neutral, polite, and curious, and yet _still _manage to convey sarcasm, I will never figure out.

I grinned, and prodded a toe at the engorged pack now at my feet. In the brief silence that followed, my eyes momentarily traced Elenya and Alatariel as they paused awkwardly behind Elrond, who was now deep in conversation with a man who had the same long, dark hair as he.

"So, um, how are you looking forward to this quest thing?" I shifted on my rock and folded my hands in my lap, turning my face towards the cloudy sky.

"Hmm, I find its prospects rising by the minute," he replied with as much of a flourish to his tone as he ever seemed to get.

I turned to him after a small pause, and then directed a deliberate look at Elenya. "Yes, I think I might agree. Looks to be an interesting journey."

His eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly and he shook his head, even as his lips twitched into a reluctant smile. I tried for an innocent expression.

Before he could decide to tear me a new one, however, Boromir slowed his pacing to a stop ahead of us, distracting Legolas. I noticed a slight hush descend over everyone present, as the sound of not-so-well-muffled sobs carried over from the other side of the clearing. Taken aback, I followed Boromir's gaze and stared, as one of the hobbits made a hiccupy sound and withdrew from a hug to stand by his slightly taller companion.

Suddenly sobered once more, I pressed my lips together and stared down at my fingers, as everyone else who had been watching the hobbits went back to pretending they weren't looking either.

As I was given a glimpse into someone else's hardship, I discovered an unexpected sense of perspective on my own issues. I mean, it was a difficult time for everyone, not least of all myself; but I did have an element of certainty concerning the upcoming events. I knew the ending of the tale, I knew who would be safe and who would not – or at least I knew the _probable _outcome of what lay ahead, if I worked on a purely preventive level and just made sure _nothing else _happened that was not supposed to. But that was a foundation, that was something to work off. I had a definitive, non-negotiable layout of specific events that had to happen.

And as I drew deep emotional comfort from the sight of my cuticles, it dawned on me that despite the violently baffling predicament I had woken up to only a few months ago, in this particular context at least, I had _structure._ And I had the sense of stability that follows that. These hobbits – in fact, _everyone _else there – all they had was uncertainty, a deeply shrouded but undoubtedly dark future. Which involved, what? Leaving Rivendell with the Ring. And? Going to Mordor?

I sighed, glancing briefly at Legolas who seemed suddenly lost in his own thoughts as well, before my gaze turned almost unseeingly over the small group of people milling about. I could have wallowed in a thick pool of self pity for the rest of my Middle Earthean life, but what good would that have done me in the end? What would it have possibly achieved, other than to get me so caught up in myself that I lost track of everything around me and regressed into nothing more than a useless burden?

As two of the hobbits peeled away and turned once more to attend their baggage, I began to feel guilty over my decidedly self-obsessed state of mind, and resolved to snap the hell out of it. So my life sucked. I wasn't exactly the only person who could claim this.

And I had one thing no one else had; I had _knowledge. _I had _certainty. _Well, for some things at least, until I managed to get back home, until I figured that out, I was going to do _my _part to make sure that the world didn't fall into despair.

It's probably a little sad then, you might think, that after finally crafting this decisive, forward-moving state of mind for myself, it took me almost a minute to realise that _two, _not _four_ hobbits, were left packing their _two _packs onto the pony.

I jumped suddenly to my feet and took half a step forward as the realisation hit me, forgetting about everything else. _Merry and Pippin. Where had Merry and Pippin gone? _My eyes darted over the crowd once more, a frantic flutter building steadily within me.

They were walking away. Without any sort of conviction, back to the hall they had come from. After only just _tearfully hugging _their two companions in what looked very much like a goodbye.

"Excuse me," I somehow managed to mutter distractedly at the elf beside me, who was probably now wondering what exactly was the matter with all women in general.

And then I was moving, striding across the clearing with as much casual speed as I could muster.

If I was right in my assumption, then, well… This was certainly inconvenient. To the whole world. To say the least.

I dodged through the sparse crowd as my targets disappeared back towards the hall, at one point weaving in a dramatic flurry of skirts around a pair of older dwarves in my way, before rather quickly gaining on the hobbits and placing myself almost directly in their way.

They startled at my sudden, flustered appearance before of them, and blinked up at me with surprise in their not-quite-dry eyes.

I blinked back at them, losing some of my momentum, and all three of us stood awkwardly for a moment, blinking at each other.

Then, before things got _too_ weird, I took a breath and smiled.

"Uh," I said quite intellectually. "Might… might I have a word?"

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

Hah... Hahahahahaha... It did not just take me nearly 4 months to post this chapter.. Honestly, i have no idea what you're talking about.

On a side note, thank you so much to my beta **Galenfea**, who patiently stuck with me while i violently fretted over my anti-knowledge on weapons and anything to do with them. She kept a calm demeanour in the face of my panic seizures, helped me pick out a weapon for Millie, and even schooled me quite knowledgably on its use. I am forever in your dept, my awesome, awesome friend!

And to you, my readers (not that i actually HAVE any of you anymore...) but the three of you that have accidentally stumbled upon this story, and have slugged your way through it to this point... well, i would very much love it if you could take a few seconds to let me know what you think of this story so far. You see i have this delicate ego, and i tend to write much faster when it is inflated with the knowledge that people are reading and at least partially enjoying this. *turns eyes pointedly to review button* ... :D?


	6. The Long Road Ahead

**Chapter 6 **- _"The Long Road Ahead"_

So the journey started well, with Boromir blowing his Very Loud Horn into the dying sun as we left Rivendell to embark upon the most delicate and _secret_ of quests that afternoon.

Then, we were walking. It only plateaued from there.

The weather was dreadful, for one thing. It was getting into the colder days of winter, and for miles and miles and nights on end we stumbled slowly through dry, rocky lands, an icy wind whipping ceaselessly at us, determined to push us back in the direction we had come. There was less cheer within the company than you might find in a graveyard on a good day, especially without Merry and Pippin in our ranks, and through the chill air, the whip of the wind, and the generally depressing sight of the dull grey afternoon skies we woke to, even the elves' spirits were dampened those first few weeks. Yes, _even_ Alatariel's ever-present smile was dulled – which was honestly saying something about the gloom that had hung over the company.

Group morale, however, was the least of my problems. I mean, ignoring the fact that I had never been on the type of camping trip where you had to walk around all day with all your crap on your back – and having to adjust my city-strolling legs to _that_ –I still had this awkward piece of metal shoved down the side of my pack that I had to figure out before we reached Moria. Which was somewhat problematic, especially considering I felt too uncomfortable to whip out a short-sword and practice on air in front of everyone, and the lack of casual conversation due to the morose weather meant that I wasn't actually confident enough with any of the others to walk up to one of them and ask for help, either. I was engulfed in a bubble of awkwardness, and I was still, really, not very convinced I could handle my sword. Nearly two months might _sound_ like a long time for practicing, but between figuring out how to hold the weapon, how to move the weapon, how to move _with_ the weapon, how to think with the weapon, and the various different ways that I could nearly kill myself with all that sharp metal I was waving about, I still felt I needed help with the actual, real-time blocking/defending/attacking business. I needed to get on that, and soon. I just… felt so out of place with everything.

Plus, walking was _hard. _The wind and the rain and the lack of sun made me _tired _and _miserable. _My back and neck were sore from the pack, my feet hurt from all the walking, I was foul-tempered and vaguely lonely and anyway, I could always practice a little bit later, once I got to know everyone better and this entire fiasco no longer left me with the feeling that I didn't belong.

And so the long days continued, and nothing much happened. Every afternoon we got up and inched forward through the night. It hardly felt as if we were moving at all, especially considering we could probably get to Moria in a few days if we had a car. And yet every morning as we quietly settled for sleep, the line of the mountains appeared a step or two closer to us, and this was as comforting to me as it was frustrating. It was all so monotonous, and I began to count the sunsets as one counts the seconds in a minute while waiting for work to be over. In other words, fruitlessly, but hopefully.

The fact that group interaction was almost non-existent didn't help matters, though. In fact my only communication with other members of the group (except for the few glares and haughty comments thrown my way by Elenya, that is), was when Legolas noticed my brand new habit of constantly breaking branches on bushes and ripping bark off trees that we passed – and even then his only response was to raise his eyebrows and spontaneously pick up his own habit of standing with his back to us every morning as we set up camp, peering intently in the direction we had come as if looking for something.

And then about a fortnight in, the wind suddenly dropped away, the clouds lifted, and the pale morning sun stretched her fingers towards our tired faces as she climbed over the horizon.

I sat on my bedroll, hunched deep into my thick coat, absently scraping a groove into the earth with the dagger I had been given as a companion piece for my short-sword. Around me, everyone was settling down for another cold meal and a rest, murmurs of appreciation at the change in the weather passing around the group. Frodo in particular seemed to be taking it all in stride, rubbing absently at his shoulder with a smile on his upturned face as Gandalf moved to stand beside him.

An overstuffed pack dropped heavily on the ground before me.

"It would be _nice _if our handmaid could do her _job _every now and then," Elenya whined, dumping herself unceremoniously on a miraculous patch of clean grass. She pushed a clump of frizzled blonde hair off her forehead with the back of her hand, and glared at me.

I rolled my eyes and scratched more vigorously at the earth. "Look, just because even the pony refuses to touch anything you own, doesn't mean that you can come over here and squeal about it to me."

"I do not _squeal,_" she said, voice suddenly rich and smooth as velvet.

"Well I'm not going to set up your bloody bed-roll, for the last time!" I threw my dagger down in annoyance, only vaguely registering the fact that I'd just barely missed slicing my own feet with it.

"What good are you, then?" she puffed, as she grabbed her pack and heaved it mightily towards herself. "Why did I even bring you here if you're going to be this freaking useless?"

"Please," I scoffed, hardly willing to listen to her same, stupid line of argument any longer. "_Why did you bring me here? Why did you bring me here? _As if it's some sort of _privilege _to be trudging around in this barren wilderness, weeing in bushes and sleeping on ground so rocky it might as well give up any illusions of sporting grass at all."

"It _is _a privilege, you nimwit!" She finally settled the pack upright before herself, unlatched it, and began rummaging valiantly through. "Do you know how many people would give all they owned just to be in your position right now?"

"Merry and Pippin would be the first two that come to mind," I muttered angrily, fidgeting with my dagger once more and sending her a glare she didn't look up to see.

"Oh, come on." She dug her arm further into her bag, a look of deep concentration settling on her features as she continued absently. "You keep going on and on about the stupid little hobbits. What the hell. It's not such a big deal, _relax._"

"Not a big – hello! _Hello! _What planet are youon? Big deal, here! Very big deal!" I waved my dagger passionately to emphasise how all-encompassing the deal actually was, an action which she also ignored, her tongue poking through her teeth as she focused mightily on her search._ "_I mean, not to get into unimportant specifics or anything," I continued, "But disregarding any major plotline changes due to the sudden disappearance of two main characters, Amon Hen alone is going to be very muddled, and probably horrifically catastrophic, without the presence of those two hobbits. Have you even thought it through that far ahead?"

"Amon who? Look, why are you so uptight?" She was still rummaging through her things, throwing her sentences absently at me as if the conversation _wasn't _about the very future of the world. "It's not like this problem's unsolvable. I mean, Alatariel and I, there's two of us isn't there? And there were two of Merry and Pippin. Two of them, two of us, there you go! We are the perfect solution! _Ow, _God, what is _in _this bag?"

"You are _not _the perfect solution," I insisted, jabbing my dagger towards her. "You can't just replace characters like that; even if you tried to, it doesn't logically work out anyway, you idiot. The plot calls for two _hobbits._"

"Oh whatever," Elenya muttered, and shoved a second hand into her bag, clearly dismissing me in favour of her search.

Alatariel chose that handy moment to happily appear beside us, sliding her pack to the ground and plucking herself delicately onto the edge of it.

"Good morning!" she chirped at us, curls wafting gently around her face as she sat.

I turned to her as the scent of lilac and rainbows drifted towards me, battled valiantly with my own bodily odours, and then died a torturous death at my feet.

"Alatariel," I said, as if suddenly struck with an amazing idea. "Maybe you can help me out with something?"

"Oh, yeah?" she replied, flashing me a brilliant smile and sitting slightly straighter.

"Are you insane?"

She didn't move a muscle on her face, but a distinct glaze slid across her expression. "…Huh?"

"Well, Merry and Pippin," I clarified matter-of-factly. "How did you two manage to get rid of them? Was the decision a result of Elenya's and your combined stupidity? Were you temporarily overcome with irrational thoughts due to the lack of chemicals in Rivendell's air? Or _are _you two actually a little bit insane? And, furthermore, whywould you even do this in the first place?"

Alatariel's smile wavered slightly, and her eyes flicked towards her companion.

"Um, we needed to like… fit us all in?" she answered hesitantly, picking the one thing out of my tirade she'd been tutored to answer.

"But," I said in a calm and measured voice. "But Alatariel. There are still ten of us."

She just stared at me.

"Hello? Do you understand me?" I barely refrained from waving my hand before her eyes. "There are _ten bloody walkers. _Why would do that? _Why _would you _do that?_"

But she seemed to have shut down to autopilot, if her blank smile was anything to go by, and Elenya finally pushed her bag to the side with a sigh and glared at me.

"You can just be, I dunno… hired help or something. Not actually a part of the fellowship, then, just here on account of us. How about that, does that make you happy? Huh? Will you stop talking now?" She rolled her eyes angrily.

"Okay, first of all," I turned wholly away from Alatariel, frowning. "What do you mean 'you can be'? I _can _be? But the decision is quite obviously _already made, _it's… it's all _done! _How on earth did you manage to talk Elrond into this, then? Obviously not with logic, or any kind of argument at all, it would seem. _What the hell did you do, and how did you do it?_ And if you can apparently so blatantly disregard the rules anyway, then why bother to chuck Merry and Pippin out at all?"

"Well, because! You said!" she fired at me, getting a bit animated herself now. "You said they'd have to leave for us to fit in!"

"Yeah," I replied rather sarcastically, "And I _also _said that Legolas would have to leave too, to make room –"

"Hah! Like I would get rid of _Legolas _for _you!_"

"_You _would get rid of –? Can we perhaps get back to the question of _why you have this kind of influence at all? _Honestly it's kind of terrifying."

"_Urgh!_" Elenya urghed, and pulled her bag almost violently towards herself once more. "Details! You're so stuck on the details!"

Alatariel cleared her throat softly from beside me then, and I jumped, having as per usual, immediately forgotten she was there.

"Maybe, I don't know…" She faltered for a moment, as if thinking for herself was a new and scary thing. "Maybe it's better like this. That they're not here?"

"…_Why?_" I said, and I must have sounded quite defensive or angry, because she continued rather quickly.

"No, I mean, you know… for them. So they don't have to go through all that horrible stuff."

"Or _maybe _you just need to get over yourself, and stop sticking your giant fat nose into things that don't concern you, _Nessa,_" Elenya interrupted, bringing the attention back to herself.

I turned to her with a huff and an insult ready on my lips.

Only to discover that she'd apparently had a shower, blow-dried her hair, and completed a full manicure since I'd last seen her. A few seconds ago.

My eyebrows flew to my hairline, and I lost all train of thought.

"Um," I said.

Elenya curled her lips in an arrogant impression of a smile, and brushed a shiny lock of hair over her shoulder. "Yes?" she replied haughtily, a challenging tone lurking beneath her words.

There was a pause.

"…Okay, fine, _nothing! Nothing_, alright! Nothing is the matter." I let out a big puff of air, and flopped bonelessly back onto my bedroll. "You are not defying the laws of Canon, or Logic, or The Universe. Not at all." I stared up at the cloudless sky glumly, not bothering to brush away the mass of brown hair that had fallen over my face. "And you certainly were not smelly and dishevelled only moments ago, Elenya, I don't care. I don't. Whatever. I completely and utterly give up the fight to reason with you." After a moment more, I heaved another sigh and dragged myself back up, grabbing my half-empty water skin, a couple of small cloths I'd hijacked from a laundry closet looking thing in Rivendell, a bar of soap, and my dagger. "I'm gonna go have a wash now. Be back later."

Elenya sniggered at me as I stood, and dabbed a sweet smelling perfume on her wrists smugly.

"Oh piss off," I sulked, and trudged off towards the trees.

A few strides later I nearly bowled Sam over, who was just coming away from the crown of grey-green Holly trees with a fistful of dry twigs and leaves.

"Ack, sorry," I muttered at the hobbit, steadying him with one hand as he stumbled slightly.

"No problem, miss, I was just-"

"Oh! Actually, Sam," I interrupted, taking half a step back and making a conscious effort to wipe the pouty look off my face. "I'm going down to the stream, d'you want me to fill your water for you or something?"

The hobbit's light brown eyes flicked to the towel and soap I was holding, and he blushed marginally, probably at the idea of what I'd be doing there in the first place. "The stream? Well, thank you very much but – oh, now wait just a moment, perhaps I…" he ran a palm over his hair, from the top of his head to his forehead, and rested his hand on his fringe. "Yes actually, I might just take you up on that. Hold up." And off he went.

I watched as he trot towards where the majority of the group had assembled and deposited his leafy load in front of Aragorn, who was building a tipi of sticks in what was presumably going to become a fire at some point, before Sam turned and began rummaging through his things. The sight of Sam bent over and looking for stuff was only slightly entertaining, however, and still feeling somewhat agitated from my Sueish confrontation, I decided I should go and join Legolas, who I'd noticed was standing away from the group, staring out at the landscape in his morning ritual. I hadn't really had a chat with him, or anyone else for that matter, (other than Dumb and Blonder, of course) since the day of our departure.

Shifting my small load into one arm, I trundled towards the elf, as an icy breeze picked up and tried to snake its way inside my jacket.

"It is heartening to see the sun out this morning, is it not?" Legolas said mildly as I came to a stop beside him, his eyes lazily roaming the landscape.

My lips twitched in what might have been an attempt at a smile, and I fisted a hand around the neck of my coat, pulling it closer against myself. "It's certainly nice after all that crappy weather, even if it is still kind of cold."

"Cold?" he tilted his head towards me. "Yes, I suppose you would feel the chill."

"You suppose what? What does that mean!" I stared at him with mock incredulity, acutely aware of the gentle but frosty wind licking at my face. "Come on, you can't tell me you don't even feel a _little _cold."

Legolas shrugged, a vaguely smug expression tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Well, that's not fair." I huffed and turned back towards the group, watching Sam who had apparently located his water sac, and was now standing before Aragorn again, one hand on his hip and the other extended towards the ranger expectantly.

"Stupid, weird elves," I muttered grumpily under my breath.

Legolas laughed at that, a clear, soft laugh that nonetheless seemed to carry across the quiet morning, and brought an involuntary smile to my face.

"Tis the mortals who are strange, Amelia, not the elves." He was grinning still, I could hear it in his voice. "We are simply what you were supposed to be."

"Hey!" I turned back towards him, my free hand flying from the neck of my jacket to my hip. "You had better take that back, you tree-hugging nymph, or else I'll show you what I think about who's supposed to be what!"

His laughter rang out once more, the corner of his eyes creasing with mirth as he grinned down at me. "Oh? And I suppose you could out-wit a being older than your entire family tree?" He was still chuckling between his words, and I shook my head in mirroring amusement.

"Listen, elf," I said, glancing back at the rest of the fellowship and noticing (with only a little superiority) that Elenya seemed to be glaring quite heartily at me. "I think the sun has gotten to your head this morning. Maybe you should go lie down."

He grinned at me and turned away, back towards the wide expanse of land he had been staring at. "And miss such a clear view?" He clasped his arms behind his back. "Nay, I am content here."

I looked at him for a long moment, before tracing my eyes out over the jagged expanse of rocky earth tinged pink with the rise of the sun. "I suppose you can see a lot further on a day like this," I said carefully, wondering just how far his sight could reach.

His only response was a smile, as he seemed at that moment to catch a glimpse of something in the distance that I could not hope to distinguish.

I looked down, and then turned away, back towards the group. Sam had apparently just finished collecting everyone's water sacs from the looks of things, and was on his way towards me, shuffling the lumpy objects in his arms.

"This morning has brought about change, in more than just the winds," Legolas said softly from beside me, still facing the opposite direction. "And I am _not_ referring to the fact that the sun is out, too." He turned and raised an eyebrow at me with amusement, as I pointedly shut my mouth.

.~.~.~.

After collecting the empty water skins from Sam ("Here you go, miss. I'd hoped you wouldn't mind terribly, I brought a few others to fill as well, see, and I can surely help with them if you need –"), I then went in search of the winding stream, and had a pat-down wash beside it – alone. Thank you, Sam, but really I was sure I could manage without.

And, just to avoid any glossing-over of the nitty-gritty details; pat-down showers in the middle of the great outdoors, in the middle of winter, using run-off water from the mountains (a.k.a recently melted snow), with a bunch of burly men and some hobbits barely a two minute walk behind you, is no comfortable task. Even with the presence of a thick tree trunk to block one of the three hundred and sixty degrees of view afforded in the almost-but-not-quite-foresty clump of trees I was in, I didn't strip completely off. No way. I was wearing nothing underneath the dress, what with my only bra – and panties for that matter – having disintegrated beyond use about a month ago in Rivendell. Top half of dress down to waist was as far as I was going. I was desperate to be clean, not embarrassed.

Though of course, with my luck, I couldn't afford even _that_ particular luxury.

To be fair, I hadmanaged for almost two whole weeks to wash myself every time our path wandered near a stream or creek without any problems, so what occurred next was inevitable, really. These things just happened. All the time. To me.

I had been kneeling by the ankle deep rush of water, topless (but not skirtless – not skirtless, thank God), having just finished lathering, rinsing with a wet cloth, and quickly drying myself before any water could trickle down and wet my skirts. I was feeling suitably less smelly, and even though I knew that my dress would remain dirt-stained and musky, I did feel a lot better. But I wasn't yet content, oh no, because though I'd been washing my body whenever possible,my hair had not been touched in two long weeks. It was, _how you say?_ Disgusting.

I'd thought I might as well take advantage of the drying capabilities of the sun out that morning, and wash my hair with less chances of catching pneumonia immediately afterwards. So I remained kneeling by the stream a little longer, top still down to avoid it getting unnecessarily wet, and trying to dunk my head under two or so inches of water. I wasn't too unsuccessful either, with a bit of manoeuvring and a lot of splashing, and after two thorough scrubs with my soap, I eventually worked up a good lather and assumed that to mean my hair was finally clean. When you rub soap through your wet hair and get no frothy bubbles out of it, that's when you know you probably have enough oil in there to squeeze onto a pan and fry up some bacon. It's a terrible, terrible feeling. And I stick to the theory that it was all worth it, if only to be relatively clean once more.

After the third soaping (just to be safe), I rinsed off as best I could and straightened from my hunch, shivering quite a bit at this point. With numb fingers, I squeezed my hair out one final time, and reached for my dry towel, which was no longer actually all that dry but hell it was dry enough.

That was when the random shuffling sounds of nature abruptly intensified behind me, and there was a sudden, cut-off curse.

I froze, and then my hands immediately flew to my… goodies on display. With my arms well placed and wrapped quite firmly around my chest, I instinctively whirled around to see what was behind me, wet hair flipping dramatically as I half-turned my shoulder to get a better view.

"Oh, for crying out loud," I said somewhat disbelievingly at the sight before me, water now dribbling down my back. "_Boromir?_"

Standing rooted to the spot, one arm holding a large bundle of fire-wood while the other hand pressed firmly against his eyes, Boromir sputtered, turned beet-red, and nearly tripped over himself as he took an involuntary step backwards.

"I'm sorry," he managed to croak, before spinning on his heel and rushing off in the opposite direction.

I sat gaping at where he had been for a long moment, and then almost to my own surprise, burst into a fit of laughter.

When I later returned to the campsite and plonked myself down by the newly built fire, I took secret pleasure in watching our resident Gondorian as he struggled to pretend nonchalance, while simultaneously blushing and glaring at his feet whenever I glanced at him.

My chest was still bubbling with mirth after that ridiculous encounter (the embarrassment on my behalf diminished by the escalated state of mortification Boromir seemed to be in), and by the general feel of the morning, I was beginning to think that Legolas' earlier foreshadowing may have actually been of the good kind. I mean we had a fire going for the first time since we set off, the sun was out, and the plan had been to stay put the next day and rest. Things were looking up. Maybe those days of rejuvenation, at least, would be nice ones?

I had of course, however, forgotten about the crebain.


	7. The Birds

**Chapter 7 **_- "The Birds"_

So waking up to a flock of crows violently dive-bombing you is not very fun. You know, just in case you thought otherwise. In fact it's quite petrifying actually, and I'm really upset I had to experience it at all. The cinematic version of this story doesn't at all get across the terrific feeling of helplessness and fright which comes with lying motionless in the dirt while a bunch of black, winged creatures with intelligent eyes swarm you. Then again, in the cinematic version the fellowship get to Caradhras from Rivendell in about ten minutes. In lovely weather. During the day. Which is definitely not what our travel schedule had looked like, so I really shouldn't have been so surprised about the birds.

Still, at least my first evil creatures of Middle Earth were ticked off the list, and I wasn't yet dead. A plus, I must say. However as we packed up and moved on that night (_without, _I might add, our extra day of rest and rejuvenation), I was much more alert and ready for action as a consequence of the aerial attack, and therefore much more agitated and restless when nothing _continued _to happen. In fact it took three more boringly laborious nights before we finally reached the bottom of the mountain, and therefore any sort of plot points in the storyline. Nothing, not even the books, warn you about how tedious and tiresome random, fruitless walking is. Honestly, I was almost hopingfor another swarm of terrifying, crazy birds to flap evilly near my head again, if only to spice things up a bit. If it wasn't for Elenya and Alatariel constantly annoying me with their whining renditions of "Are we there yet?", I would probably have begun whining myself.

When we finally started climbing up the mountain and the gradual appearance of fat, warning flakes of ice began fluttering down at us, my line of thought altered slightly, from; "I'm bored." to; "Great. Now I'm bored and _cold._"

We rested briefly on the knees of Caradhras, as Gandalf continued an argument with Aragorn that essentially, snow was more dangerous than a great angry Balrog trying to eat your face off. The rest of us unhappily ignored them as we threw our packs down and found places to rest, the night around us seeming harsher for its brightness in the faint glare of snow. We were all carrying extra firewood with us, thanks to Boromir's logic (which was basically "We're _going _to die up there, Gandalf. I'm not kidding, it'll be cold and we should definitely take some wood."), and though I didn't enjoy the added weight, I was glad we had it with us for the promise of warmth it provided.

Not too far from me, my two Suish companions grumbled grouchily to each other some more. Alatariel had her chin in her hand and was looking, of all things, rather fed up, while Elenya kicked moodily at her pile of sticks.

"Are we absolutely certain it's necessary for us to take this road?" Elenya piped up suddenly. "Are _all_ the other ways blocked?" I'm sure she was trying to appear mild and inquisitive, as if this were just a passing thought of hers, but mostly she came across as extremely whiney.

Aragorn sighed from the other side of the group. "It is the safest route available to us. We must at least try it."

"It's only, well,' Elenya sat up straighter, and the moon peeked out from behind the clouds just long enough to spotlight her in its soft, silver glow. "I have a feeling, deep within my bones… a feeling that this road leads to nowhere, and that our true course… our true course lies in darkness…" She stared dramatically into the middle-distance, as if trying to see something no-one else could.

There was a semi-awkward silence. In the end Aragorn decided not to answer at all, and turned away, clearing his throat faintly.

I sniggered under my breath.

Not too long after that little display the snow flakes all but vanished, and we started walking the difficult path once more. We stopped to rest several times that night, with the weather improving every time we paused, and picking up with a violent fervour whenever we moved forward once more.

Gimli made some gruff comment about Caradhras itself not wanting us there, to which Boromir vehemently agreed and Aragorn resolutely ignored. Eventually though, it got to the point where the wind was so harsh, the cold so bitter, and the snow flurried so thickly before our eyes, that we simply could go no further. As if by some unspoken agreement, we all stopped walking. We were exhausted beyond words, and there was no way we could have continued any longer that night, no matter how desperately we needed to move on.

As soon as we paused, our backs against a rocky cliff, stones began to fall from above us, whistling over our heads and crumbling into the darkness below. The wind shrilled past, shrieking with what sounded quite eerily like laughter as it twisted through gullies and cracks in the mountain side, and the snow continued to pile heavily about us.

"Let those call that the wind who will; there are fell voices in the air, and those stones are aimed at us!" Boromir fumed, though he directed this at no-one.

Behind us Frodo stumbled and caught his arms around the pony's neck, his lips blue and his teeth chattering. As if this was some sort of signal, Boromir roughly unbound the firewood he'd latched to his bag, and sent Gandalf a glare that seemed to say 'Are we nearly dead enough for you to light us a fire, yet?'

The rest of us seemed to agree quite heartily with Boromir's unspoken demand, and we all threw off our packs and hunkered down for the rest of the night.

A good fifteen minutes later, after stubbornly trying to make us mortals create a fire in the middle of a raging snow storm, Gandalf finally harrumphed something about his magic being a signal notifying evil of his presence, or something equally dramatic, before grumpily thrusting his staff at our wood and igniting it for us.

We sat grouped close around the fire for the rest of the night, pressed as near to the cliff face as we could in the faint hope that it would protect us from the wind. I was drifting uncomfortably between a state of unconscious exhaustion, huddling with the hobbits near Bill as the snow continued to fall, and the wind continued to shrill. None of us slept that night.

.~.~.~.

Long hours later, I was eventually roused from my stupor when Alatariel murmured, "I think it's stopped snowing," and I realised that it was now quiet enough for me to actually hear her murmur.

Blinking groggily, I stared around at the silent grey mountain peaks slowly fading into view, and the layer of snow which had piled in a ring around us, rising almost higher than a hobbit barely a few meters away.

As we slowly began shifting back to life, I looked on at Frodo and Sam beside me with a bit of worry. Out of all of us they seemed the worst for wear, their bodies small and their toes bare against the cold. But I didn't really know what to do for them; I mean I would have offered them my coat, except you know, then _I'd_ freeze, and I wasn't really into that whole dying thing. Still, I _thought _about giving them my coat, which I suppose is a semi-nice thing to do, right?

I shuffled and looked at the hobbits once more, and bit my lip.

"Are you guys alright?" I asked softly.

Sam shivered and Frodo shrugged.

"We'll manage," Frodo said, looking up at me with a little smile.

Poo. Stupid hobbits and their smallness and their stout little bravery, making me feel bad for no reason at all! I didn't really know what else to do, so I just nodded and stood.

"Well, well… okay," I said with a shiver of my own. "Let me know if… I dunno, you need something. Not that I'm particularly useful with anything, but whatever."

Frodo sniffled in acknowledgement, and went back to freezing.

This made me want to go over and hug him, but it occurred to me that not only were we barely acquaintances, but that he and Sam were both at least double my age, if not older, which made me feel a little weird. I decided I should stop thinking about them altogether, but that just got me thinking about the other two hobbits we'd left behind instead, which got me all anxious on their behalf, which then got me rather fed up with everything my mind kept thinking about and so I started pacing. Bloody, good for nothing brain.

By the time I'd finished internally angsting, the rest of the company had roused from their cold stupors, and were quietly discussing our next course of action. Which was finally, and thankfully, to go back down the mountain.

Shivering, I stomped my feet in an effort to get my blood actually flowing once more, and looked around at everyone's miserable faces as Gimli, Aragorn and Gandalf were engaged in _how exactly_ we were going to get through all that snow, especially with the hobbits in tow. I pressed my teeth together in a stubborn attempt to keep them from chattering, and began blowing into my cold hands. I was the only one standing, at this point.

Four paces one way before I hit the piled snow, four paces back. I got dizzy rather quickly, especially considering the ledge we were on wasn't that wide, and I could see just how high up we were if I cared to look. I immediately stopped walking, and tried jumping on the spot instead, fingers still at my lips.

Gandalf threw me an irritated glare from under the brim of his hat.

"So, what's happening?" I asked for the sake of including myself in the conversation, bouncing from foot to foot and inching closer to everyone.

"We're heading back the way we came," Gimli answered shortly, fingers tugging on the ends of his wiry black beard. "Somehow."

"Somehow," Boromir repeated, and stood abruptly. "Well, where thoughts are not enough, actions will have to suffice. I suppose Aragorn and I will simply have to dig us all out."

I glanced across at Aragorn, who had quickly wiped his face of a scowl that threatened to emerge.

"That's a long way to dig," I said, biting on a grin. "And without shovels? Can't Gandalf whip up a flame and melt us a path?"

"I could, if you would scramble down the mountain and fetch us some more firewood. I cannot burn snow, you know." Gandalf flicked the brim of his hat, sending a spray of icy particles into the air, and muttered under his breath.

"We do not think the snow is piled so deeply, past that shoulder of rock over there." Aragorn lifted his hand, pointing to where our path had curved around a corner. "That is where the storm first hit us hard."

"'Tis perhaps only a furlong or so away," Boromir said, throwing off his coat and huffing out a sharp, frosty breath as the cold immediately bit into his skin.

"Oh I see, only a furlong, then, alright." I grinned at him, and stared across at the rock he'd pointed at, about two hundred metres away. "Not too far, hey?"

He just rolled his shoulders.

Aragorn heaved himself slowly to his feet, and stared at the snow in distaste.

"Perhaps I might also be of assistance," Legolas said mildly, as he stood in one fluid motion, he alone of the group seeming completely unruffled by the weather.

Elenya, who had at some point in the night taken advantage of the terrible conditions and practically shimmied herself into Legolas' lap (forgetting that she, as an elf, should not really feel the cold either), pouted as he stood and stepped away from her.

Aragorn, however, looked relieved for a moment – until the elf sprung deftly towards the snow and walked a few, light steps over the top of it.

"I shall go to find the sun," Legolas proclaimed, gazing thoughtfully at the thick cover of cloud above us. I was about to open my mouth and question what exactly he meant by that, when he turned, threw Aragorn an innocent smile over his shoulder, and then sped off into the distance, running as if over perfectly firm ground.

Aragorn pursed his lips and began muttering bitterly, something about "flighty elves" and "a good lot of help", as he removed his own coat and placed it carefully over his pack.

On the other side, Boromir shook his head and made a jiggley little "Brrr," noise. "Well, nothing else to wait on," he proclaimed, and then plunged straight into the snow.

Aragorn appeared to restrain an eyeroll, and followed at a more sedated pace.

.~.~.~.

It took them about an hour to get down to the bend. Slowly, painstakingly, Boromir laboured at the front, appearing almost as if he were swimming through the snow at times, his great big arms churning and pushing and gouging through the snow. Aragorn, who was taller than Boromir but not as broad through the chest, came up behind, scooping out any snow that tried to tumble back into the path and packing the walls in for support, a bobbing black figure behind Boromir the Greenish Bulldozer.

The rest of us amused ourselves by watching them work for a while. I briefly wondered on the fact that so many of us stayed uselessly behind, but then I realised that 'the rest of us' consisted of a withered old grumpmeister, a bunch of girls, two half-frozen hobbitsicles, and a dwarf. Who really probably would have been quite useful, if he perhaps had a nice pair of heels to help him see over the snow with.

After a while the men dwindled into two tiny pulsing dots in the white distance, before entirely disappearing around the bend. I felt supremely glad that I wasn't out there with them, and allowed my mind to drift as we waited.

It was a long time before they got back, working still to widen the path on their return.

I yawned and stretched against the cliff face where I'd parked myself, squinting up at the two sweaty men as they stumbled back into our clearing, evidently halfway to exhaustion.

"…Is Bill even going to fit through that?" I asked, eyeing the somewhat narrow path.

Aragorn sent me a withering glare.

"Just saying…"

"We have done as best we could, though I dare say lesser men with spades would have served better." Boromir was panting slightly as he walked towards Gandalf, who was now sitting by the hobbits. "The rest of us should manage alright, but how do the hobbits fare?"

"None too well," Gandalf replied with a frown. "The cold is getting to them."

"Aye," Gimli added, pulling his empty pipe from his lips. "I don't like their pallor."

We all stared at Sam and Frodo, who had fallen asleep against each other.

"And Legolas? Has he not yet returned?" Aragorn asked.

"Oh no, not yet," Elenya replied from somewhere beside me as she too stood, suddenly interested in the conversation now that The Elf had been mentioned. "Wherever did he go?"

"To _find the sun,_" I mumbled. "What a weirdo…"

Elenya (and everybody else, for that matter) ignored me.

"I feel it might be best if we moved on without him, for the sake of Frodo and Sam," Aragorn said, as he crouched by Frodo and shook him gently. "Our paths should cross on our way down, in any case."

"Hm, I agree," Gandalf lifted his staff and used it to pull himself upright. "We might give him a little time, but I do not want to prolong the hobbits' exposure to this weather any more than is strictly necessary."

The rest of us packed while the hobbits were roused, bleary eyed and shivering, and we organised ourselves rather quickly from there. Legolas still had not returned by the time we had finished. No one seemed too worried, though, so I restrained my bubble of anxiety, and didn't say a word. No need to start some sort of panic. After all, I could have been wrong. Maybe he wasn't _supposed _to have returned to the group yet.

Aragorn scooped a groggy Frodo onto his back, while Boromir lifted the heavier Sam, and together the two lead the way back through the snow, their packs now dumped on Bill, who I was dragging up the rear. Yes dragging, because apparently the pony hated me, and would rather stay and die on the mountain side than have me hold his reins. Stupid freaking animal.

On the plus side, at least Bill did fit between the sloping walls of our snow ditch/trail – which by the way, I'd noticed that Boromir was _still _widening as he went, the third time through, this time with a little extra hobbit cargo.

I mean, did the man never tire?I was really very amazed at this point, to see that his arms were still working away after _two straight hours _of manual labour already. An incredible feat of pure, physical strength and endurance, you've really gotta hand it to him. I mean Aragorn was still going too, of course he was. But Boromir was doing most of the work, really. It was pretty remarkable.

By the time we reached the end of the trail, where the snow raised over my head on either side (freaking Bill out to the point where he had almost managed to bolt, causing Gandalf to double back and snatch the reins off me, and relieve me of my one and only duty), the men were very much worn down.

We stopped for a rest as soon as we stepped outside of what was basically a great, sheer wall of snow. We hadn't even stopped for two seconds, when a great rumble shook the mountain, and we all got a hefty spray of ice in the eyes.

"Enough, enough!" Gimli cried roughly, his arm still lifted in a gesture to shield his face as he stared across at the mini avalanche which had just blocked our way back up. "You have won, we're leaving already! _Ach!_"

* * *

…Happy Easter, everyone! *eyes dart around as she pretends it hasn't been another amazingly long break between updates*

Well I hated (and still hate) my last chapter, but I'm marginally happier with this one! I think I managed the flow and tension better this time, and it's ALL thanks to my new problem solving technique. Cue shameless plugging (because I _have _no shame) – introducing my new side project "A Salty Conundrum", which you might say is a spin off of sorts to this story. Yaay! You should all go have a look at it on my profile, because it is the reason for the relative success in both characterisation and flow in this chapter, and also because I find myself extremely amusing and demand that you do too.

P.S.

"_Let those call that the wind who will… aimed at us!"_ I don't know why, but I really liked that line in the book. So I pulled it directly out of 'The Fellowship of the Ring; The Ring Goes South.' This is me disclaiming myself over it.

Sweet as, bro. See you in about six months – I MEAN, SOON. SEE YOU SOON!


	8. Pyromania

**Chapter 8 - **_"Pyromania"_

The stars were scattered haphazardly across the sky, thousands and thousands and thousands of them thrown against the velvet canvas, crammed into every available space of darkness, overlapping each other, outshining each other, spilling outwards and upwards and sidewards and backwards until there was more silver than there was black, and the twinkling lights textured the sky like spilt salt over a black cloth.

So many pin-pricks of light packed into one sky, right down to the edge of the horizon – it was downright dizzying. I was almost wondering if this wasn't somehow another trick rather than reality; I still wasn't used to there being that many stars at night; couldn't have truthfully imagined what they'd meant by 'uncountable' before then. The stars were just – there were just so very many of them. And without the neon glow of a city somewhere nearby, the very depth with which they could be viewed was infinitely more than I had ever known.

And it really was hypnotizing. That quiet moment as I paused to stare up at the heavens, drawn away from all my problems and left hanging in a void where each bright light was more beautiful because of the one hanging next to it, I felt at peace.

And then a hand fisted itself suddenly into the collar of my jacket, pulling me roughly towards the pinched features of a porcelain-skinned, perfectly sculpted face. Fantastic.

"Where's Legolas?" the porcelain-skinned, perfectly sculpted face hissed at me.

I grimaced, and briefly slid my eyes shut.

"Well? Why isn't he back yet? What have you done, you little turd?"

"You've got to be kidding me –"

Elenya angrily shook her fists, which I was unfortunately attached to, and her plump, pink lips pulled into a sneer. "I'm not kidding."

"Why on earth would I have anything to do with Legolas?" I asked, opening my eyes as I gingerly dislodged myself from her grasp. She immediately re-latched.

"Because!" Her fists clenched tightly into my jacket. "Because we still haven't gone into Moria, we've been walking around for weeks, Frodo didn't even drop his ring in the snow for Boromir to pick up, and now Legolas isn't here anymore!"

She shook me once more, which I allowed because it required much less effort than struggling did.

"I want… to know… what you've done! This is serious stuff!"

"Of course it's serious," I responded tiredly, arms swinging limply by my side as Elenya continued to take her frustrations out on me. "Main characters are dropping out of this story like flies because you insisted on having your every whim fulfilled, and we're probably now all going to die and take the world down with us. I am already aware of this fact, but I'm glad you're at least catching on."

"No, excuse me, that's not the issue here." One of her hands flew from my collar so that it could wave a long finger in my face. "The issue here is Legolas."

"Who was a main character."

"Yes."

"And now he's not here."

"Exactly!"

"…Because you insisted on having your every whim–"

Both her hands fisted tightly around my collar once more. "Listen here, punk," she growled fiercely, yanking me closer.

I mouthed the word 'punk' incredulously.

"I know what you're playing at. You're just messing up the timeline somehow, trying to throw us off, confuse us with… stuff. But I'm on to you."

"Literally," I muttered, shifting in her uncomfortably tight embrace.

She loomed threateningly over me, her nose almost pressing against mine.

"Don't toy with me," she growled, as the quality of the light around us appeared to harden and cast harsh, dramatic shadows across her face. "I've got you down, and your futile attempts to sabotage me are useless! Do you understand that? I've got you down, little girl!"

"Little girl…?" I battled against the sudden twitching of my lips, and stared at her. "You know I'm probably older than you, right? What are you, 17? 18?"

"I'm an elf, okay!" She rattled me in her grasp once more, angry frustration twisting her features. "I'm immortal, of course you're not older-"

A deep, masculine voice cleared itself gruffly from beside us at that moment, and we both froze and turned towards the disturbance.

Boromir had a very worried expression on his face as he walked slowly pasts us, staring. The frosted grass crunched faintly beneath his boots. An owl hooted in the far distance somewhere. Elenya slowly unwound her fingers from my throat, and smiled innocently.

Without saying anything Boromir continued along his path towards the rest of the fellowship, as if afraid any sudden change in direction on his behalf would set a wild beast into a rage. When he had finally walked far enough away that he could no longer crane his neck and stare at us in mild horror, Elenya turned back towards me and jabbed me in the chest with a finger.

"Ow."

"You had better watch yourself, missy," she said, slitting those pretty blue eyes of hers.

I opened my mouth to defend myself, and then decided it was easier to let her think whatever she wanted. Nothing I could say would change her mind anyway, no matter how I put it, so I just shrugged and continued to stare at her.

She huffed, and stormed off.

~.~.~

"I am worried about Legolas," I heard Aragorn say quietly to Gandalf later on, as I sat across from them around the fire, warming myself up a bit before heading to sleep.

I glanced across at Boromir, who'd sat on a log not too far from me and was staring broodingly into the flames, and I pretended that I wasn't straining my ears to hear what Gandalf's response to Aragorn would be. Because despite my earlier nonchalance, I was actually pretty worried about Legolas too, and the fact that someone like Aragorn was also worried made me even more worried.

I mean, was this an intervention from the Gods to rectify Elenya and Alatariel's unfortunate little miscount and bring the official total of the Fellowship back down to nine? Did there exist some weird rule about certain facts remaining the same no matter what you did to try and change them? Or was it something else completely? Maybe Legolas' eyesight _was_ as good as I'd hoped it wasn't, and he'd seen something while up in the snow and in fact gone in search of… and found… well…

Or maybe he'd just fallen into a ditch and _died_.

These were questions I had been frantically asking myself all day, as we retraced our steps down the mountain and Legolas did not prance nimbly across the snow to beam delicately in the sunshine at us. I just didn't know what to make of the situation, and I didn't know what I could do about it either.

Opposite me, Gandalf shifted where he sat, his lips moving against each other as he made little old man noises and propped his staff up beside him. "I doubt there is much need for concern, at this point," he told Aragorn, "I do not feel troubled."

Aragorn raised his eyebrows, apparently as unimpressed with this logic as I was.

The wizard smiled genially and turned his gaze away from Aragorn, taking in his surroundings with a leisurely glance. I quickly looked down at my fingers and pretended I wasn't listening to their conversation even harder.

"I think, perhaps," Gandalf continued warmly, his voice making its way very clearly across the fire to me. "That the prince had merely spotted something while up on the peaks, and has gone to investigate. Really, it is nothing to worry ourselves over."

I very sharply did not look up at the wizard.

Nor did I pay particular attention to Aragorn's reply about Legolas running after shiny things not being a comfort.

Because all I could think was the fact that if Legolas had spotted something important enough to part from the group to investigate, this something was probably rather a significant thing. And if it was significant… well there was one thing I could think of in the general direction the elf had headed in that was probably significant enough – and in the calm weather, visible enough – to be spotted by him, and I just hadn't decided whether it was a good or bad sort of thing for the elf to come across yet.

I told my body that adrenaline was probably a bad idea before bed-time as I began to work myself into a panic, and that I should just calm down and stop thinking altogether, because thinking was a dangerous pastime and it was probably about time that someone came across this 'significant thing' anyway, we were nearly at Moria in any case and we might as well get this all over and done with and oh god I was probably going to get into so much trouble…

Boromir shifted beside me, and my eyes snapped across to him.

Look at him, just sitting there, staring broodingly into the fire, not a care in the world except for the horrible temptation he probably already felt from the Ring but you know aside from that…

I sighed internally and bent my feet up onto my log, resting my chin on my knees and looking out across the clearing at the rest of the fellowship. I couldn't even have a proper self-pitying session these days before someone came along and made me remember I wasn't the only one with problems. Gosh, what was this? Emo-ville?

Even the pony seemed to be dealing with some issues of his own, shuffling his front feet uneasily and making these nervous, mumbley kind of whinnies across at me. I watched with mild interest as Bill tugged on his tether and rolled his eyes, and pretended up some story for him involving a pony love back home who was pressuring him into pony marriage, which he wasn't too keen on because he was not yet financially ready to take care of little pony babies.

It was all utterly ridiculous, of course, and I was glad no one had been reading my increasingly questionable thoughts at that moment. Trying to distract myself from my own morbid speculations often led me in directions such as these.

After a mental slap and another brief glance at the heavens, I turned back towards Bill and wondered idly what was actually bothering him. There was nothing around, really; in fact apart from us, the night was dead silent.

Bill snorted and continued to pull at his tether anyway, as if this was of no comfort to him.

Something began to itch at the back of my mind then, as I continued to watch the nervous pony. Like that feeling you get when you've left the oven on, but haven't quite gotten around to realising it yet.

I peered across into the dark silence around me, the only noises now reaching my ears being the crackle of fire and Bill's agitated stamps and snorts. I lifted my chin off my knees, and wondered when Aragorn and Gandalf had stopped talking.

Then a long, chilling howl suddenly broke through the empty silence of the night, echoing clearly for all to hear.

My head snapped towards the distant noise, and I sat up abruptly, digging my nails into the wood beneath me.

Oh, yes, right. The wolves.

Holycrap, I'd forgotten about them.

Everyone in the fellowship was suddenly very, very tense in the ensuing pause, as the mournful echo died painfully into the once more noise-less night.

I took a short, hitched breath, and had a brief moment to contemplate the fact that my dagger was way over there near the rest of the fellowship in their bedrolls.

Then there was a burst of rustling foliage, and an enormous dark-grey wolf sprang out from bushes shockingly close to us. He landed deftly on his great paws, only a few paces away from Frodo, and crouched into himself.

With his snout wrinkled into a vicious snarl, before we even had a chance to finish turning our heads towards him, the wolf continued his motion and leapt without hesitation straight at the hobbits, barely a dark blur in the dark night save for the lasting impression of his gleaming teeth.

There was a cry throughout the fellowship as the men sprang to their feet, weapons already in hand, panic and surprise etched into their faces. They moved, but too late. The wolf had already dashed across the clearing, ears flat against his skull, muscles bunching as he lunged a second time.

Gimli was the closest. He'd hardly had the time to scramble to his feet.

The wolf leapt.

And with a throaty bark landed just to the right of his target, snarling and holding his left paw at an awkward angle thanks to the throwing axe now embedded in his shoulder.

Gimli, barely even standing upright yet, hefted a second axe in his hands, as the clatter of sticks of polished wood spilling to the floor echoed faintly behind him.

The wolf, however, did not wait for us to gather our wits, but snapped once more towards Frodo in an awkward but swift lunge, as the hobbit scrambled backwards. There was an outcry, everyone was moving towards the hobbits, but the animal was too quick and too close.

The beast's head twisted, his teeth flashed, his body tensed and lashed forward with the violent abandon that comes with injury. But before he could complete even this movement, the wolf stumbled once more, this time with a small axe suddenly embedded between his eyes, and a dark purple arrow sprouting rudely from the back of his maw.

Aragorn had by then reached Frodo's side, as the wolf staggered drunkenly, a high whine gurgling out of him as he tripped over his feet and into Bill, who screamed in terror and reared, stamping his front hooves ferociously into the animal's neck, over and over again.

The wolf snapped his jaw hollowly, hind legs scrabbling against the dirt as he crumpled to his side, and stilled.

I took a second, shaky gulp of air.

Across the clearing, Elenya fumbled with a bow in her hands, breathing heavily and standing amongst a fistful of purple-feathered arrows scattered at her feet.

Everyone was reeling.

"Well," I managed to strangle out after a moment, my eyes sweeping across the scene before me, and that was about as far into the sentence as I got.

"Stoke the fire," Gandalf's hard voice rang out, as he stared intently at the slightly twitching body of the wolf. "Draw your blades, stand together; this is not over yet."

I stood up to follow his orders, reaching for the pile of kindling, and realised I was shaking quite badly.

Well this was shit. This was extremely shit. This was so incredibly shit that if it got any more shit, it would fertilise a whole damned forest. Stupid wolves, stupid, stupid! I couldn't believe I had forgotten about them. I was entirely not ready for this!

I fumbled and dropped the firewood at my feet, running a trembling hand through my hair and frowning. Did I mention shit shit shit?

But as I bent to pick up my unwilling cargo once more, Boromir materialised in front of me and stopped me with a hand on my arm.

"Find a weapon," he murmured, gently prying the wood from my grasp. "I'll take care of the fire."

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak coherently, and hurried towards my pack without a second thought.

"Well, life, you've been great," I muttered to myself, falling to my knees in front of my things and trying to loosen my short-sword from where it was strapped to my pack. "It was nice living in you for a while. But I guess it's off to the next great adventure for me tonight."

I pulled the sleek metal from its scabbard, and cut the side of my finger in my haste. "Shit!"

Beside me, Alatariel was helping Elenya strap her quiver over her shoulders, and to their left, by Aragorn, the two hobbits were nervously drawing their swords. I put my stinging finger to my mouth, and searched down the side of my pack for my dagger with my other hand, trying to pretend that my throat wasn't tightening and my eyes stinging just a little.

"At least I'll probably taste good," I continued nervously, as I spat out a small mouthful of blood and watched my finger continue to ooze. "Maybe the scent of my blood will encourage the wolves to do me in quickly, and I won't have to bother with all the pretences of battle."

I pulled my dagger out, unsheathing it rather carefully and stowing its casing back in my bag.

"Hell, I might even be a nice dinner, all tender and unable to fight back!" My finger continued to bleed, and I stood up, holding both my weapons face-down in one hand and staring at them as if I had no idea what they were doing there. "At least someone will enjoy my last, tasty minutes on this earth."

My finger snaked its way back to my mouth, and I watched as Gimli stumped towards the fire, hefting his great axe in one hand while the other loosened the few throwing axes at his belt.

Something rustled in the bushes further down from us, and I rather fancied I could hear deep growling.

"I am going to die," I told myself calmly, and looked up at the great, sparkling heavens above.

With my heart pumping so fast I was sure it would just explode on its own, I hurried gracelessly towards the fire, where everyone else was gathering in a sort of formation that ringed the two hobbits.

Gandalf paced a circle around the camp, murmuring something wizardly under his breath and glaring into the darkness intensely.

I shifted my weapons to their appropriate hands, and dropped awkwardly into a fighting stance.

The fire burst and cracked as new flames snapped harshly into the air.

There was silence. Lots of silence.

And then… chaos.

It's a difficult thing to explain, that shock of terror which slices through your entire being in that first moment. Even before anything reaches you, even before you start to move the fear is there, the panic sets in, because all you see is chaos, this violent, uncontrolled energy racing towards and around you. I didn't know what to look at, what to focus on, it was all just this horrifying blur of movement and teeth and rage.

Something snapped near me. There was a shout from beside me, a rough hand pushing me backwards, a gravelly bark, the flash of a sword, a yelp, a grunt, and blood was spurting into my face.

I dropped my dagger and took another step back, shocked. I wiped at my face. It was sticky, and my hand came away wet.

I whimpered.

A hulk of black fur. A few more steps back. I bumped into something behind me, glanced over my shoulder. The hobbits stood there, the three of us now huddled by the fire. They lifted their little swords, Sam stepping in front of Frodo. I turned back around to find the wolf before us had sprouted two arrows, one purple, one green. It was down, by our feet, twitching and growling in its final moments.

Arrows flew everywhere. Swords flashed in the firelight. Shadows danced demonically around us, long and grotesque, leaping and thrashing as violently as those they were attached to. My senses were overloading, and something was clenching painfully around my heart.

I threw away my sword, flung it to the ground in anger, frustration, incompetence.

I whirled around. There was a yell beside me, noise and barks and yelps and shouts filling the air. Desperately I scrabbled at a long branch by the fire, lit its end, struggled to lift it before me.

The hobbits remained against each other, the rest of the company still attempting to form protective ranks around them.

But there was just so much chaos.

I stumbled back towards Frodo and Sam, stood beside them, hefted my branch and swung it wildly at anything with four legs that strayed near. I think one caught on fire. Snapped at its fur. Careened off back into the forest.

Then Gandalf was near me. "Throw that in the air," he shouted at me, as he smashed a wolf in the snout with his staff. "Throw your branch up!"

It was too long, I couldn't handle it properly, but without question I put the end against the floor and stomped my foot into the middle of it. The branch snapped, and its lit end whipped up towards me, grazed me across the chin. I barely even noticed as I gasped in a lungful of hot smoke, spluttering and coughing as I heaved the branch up into the air with all my might.

There was a burst across the clearing, a rolling boom of thunder, vibration, noise, light. My fire flashed as it reached the crest of its flight, and then a whoosh of sound, like a storm-blown wind, as flames leapt from the branch in long ropes towards the trees surrounding us.

And then they were burning. All around the clearing, one by one, the tree tops lit with flame. Arrows caught on fire mid-air, plunging flaming into their targets, who screeched and fell and bit each other.

Gandalf was shouting something, deep and echoing, his voice filling the air.

I didn't know what he said, but the wolves all fled before us.

And then only the sound of flames could be heard.

My legs crumpled beneath me and I fell on my ass, covering my eyes with shaking fingers. The sound of crackling branches slowly faded from around us. One of the hobbits briefly squeezed my shoulder.

My whole body vibrated with shock.

And then an unexpected voice floated across the night air.

"Well really, Gandalf." High and cheerful – though decidedly strangled, the voice chirped at us from the treetops. "Did you have to burn all the trees down?"

"All the trees?" Gandalf replied calmly, his grey robe flaring slightly as he twisted to address the new voice. "I believe the one you are sitting in has remained perfectly un-singed, Peregrin Took."

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

_Whell, _there you have it children! After another monstrously long wait, i give you a small step forward in the plot! Hooray! As always, a great big sloppy kiss to my beta **Galenfea **is needed - i couldnt have done it without her. Well, i could have. But it would have been less good.

Please, feel free to let me know where i've failed and succeeded in this chapter. I write for myself, but also for you too. If there's a way i could please you any better, i'd love to hear it! Otherwise, feel free to gush your praise via the nifty little 'review' link below. I will love you very much either way.**  
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